text:
A Ghost of a Chance

Book 1: Shannon Delaney Paranormal Mystery Series

by

Elizabeth Eagan-Cox

Published by Write Words Inc. at Smashwords

copyright 2008 Elizabeth Eagan-Cox

Publishers Note: This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Author or Publisher, excepting brief quotes to be used in reviews.

WARNING: Making copies or distributing this file, either on disk, CD, or over the Internet is a Federal Offense under the U.S. Copyright Act, and a violation of several International Trade Agreements.

Acknowledgements

The gorgeous Victorian mansion on the cover is none other than America's Favorite Victorian: the Morey Mansion B&B in Redlands, CA. I am much obliged to Janet Cosgrove, owner of the Morey Mansion for allowing use of its likeness. Visit the Morey Mansion website at www.moreymansion.com.

I am also much obliged to Shelley Chase for creating this cover and making my feeble ideas come true so much better than I ever imagined.

Chapter 1

"Are you sure this is the correct address?" I questioned, not believing what I was seeing with my own two eyes.

"You asked for 571 Yorba Lugo Road. Blackthorne House, right?" The driver replied.

"Yes, that's it." I paid the fare and stepped out of the taxi to face my new home.

Blackthorne House wasn't a house, per se. It was a mansion done up in the high-Victorian hues of rose, brown and green. I stared up in wonder at the home's intricate gingerbread trim and counted seven gables, four recessed porches, three balconies and one turret.

"Stop gawking!"

That command scrambled my thoughts. I turned my attention toward the voice to find the familiar figure of Sister Rosario Santiago waving to me from the mansion's front porch. Not one to disregard sage advice, I made haste up the front steps and into the inviting warmth of the front parlor.

"Neither this house nor the cold weather is what I expected to find in San Diego," I remarked as I dropped my luggage and shrugged off my coat.

"I think the chilly wind followed you in from Chicago," Sister Rosario teased. "Even for February this is unusually cold weather for us. As for Blackthorne House, it is atypical of San Diego architecture. However, it is exemplary of a classic painted lady Victorian house. I'm sure you'll be comfortable here while working on our project."

"House? You mean mansion, don't you?" I teased back. "Does this place come complete with a hidden stairwell and things that go bump in the night?" I was on a roll; "There must be some aura of mystery to this mansion."

"Now, now," Rosario deflected my query, "enough of this nonsense. Shannon Delaney, you haven't changed a bit since you were a little girl. Always looking for a good scare. And such an imagination you have, why, it's no wonder you've become a popular author."

I couldn't help noticing that Sister Rosario hadn't lost her talent for turning a chide into a compliment.

"Okay, you've called my bluff. But..." I paused. "There must be some history to this house, it's just too old not to have a fascinating bit of mystery. And, knowing you, I bet you've looked in all the nooks and crannies only to discover a back-door story about Blackthorne's mansion."

"Later, Shannon. I promise you can pick my brains over lunch. Which, by the way, is just about ready. Now, go on up to your room and unpack. It's on the second floor, first room on the right as you enter the corridor. We'll chat over lunch."

I rolled my eyes to heaven, made a funny face at my favorite nun and trudged up the stairs thinking—Foiled, again, by the good sister's quick draw!

Lunch was laid out on a small table at a windowed alcove in the front parlor. I welcomed a cup of Sister Rosario's Mexican coffee—brewed strong with a touch of cinnamon, every bit as delicious as I remembered it. The coffee revived my jet lag and my appetite. Sister Rosario said a few words of grace and then I dove into the salad and soup. We ate in silence until I looked up and out the window.

"It's amazing how very different the outside seems from in here. It's so bright. The only hint of winter weather is in the wind. What a contrast to Chicago! I've always associated cold temperatures with an overcast sky."

"It's the Santa Ana winds," Rosario offered. "In winter they bring freezing temperatures and a crystal clear sky. It's peculiar, though, for the Santa Anas to howl this far south. Usually, it's the inland area and coastal region north of here that gets the brunt of them. More coffee? More soup? Maybe a few more bites of salad?"

"Yes to the coffee, no thanks to seconds of the chowder and salad. As always with your cooking, everything was scrumptious. I suppose your strategy is to keep me chewing so I won't pester you about this mansion? But I've had enough, so please... tell me everything you know about Blackthorne House. How did it come under the auspices of the local diocese?"

"Long story," Rosario answered. "I'll attempt a Readers' Digest version."

"I'm all ears."

"The house was closed and boarded up for nearly two decades and prior to that various members of the Blackthorne family lived here. Last year a relative of Blackthorne's designated the parish as trustee of the estate with the binding stipulation that the property be put to use to benefit the local parish. After much consideration, it was decided to renovate the mansion and turn it into a bed-and-breakfast inn. I was put in charge of the entire project."

"I see... and that's where I come in?"

"Certainly is, what with your writing credentials and passion for history, I was adamant about hiring you to chronicle the project and design the advertising campaign."

"Rosario, I'm thrilled to be the bard of choice for the Blackthorne House project, but do you mean to say—you didn't have in mind I needed some place to stay after my home caught fire and burned to the ground?"

"Now, Shannon, I always keep my word and I promised your parents I would look out for you, to the best that a nun can, that is. The fact that you were living out of a suitcase when this project came up is pure coincidence and a great amount of faith. God works in mysterious ways, therefore it's not for me to question the circumstances that made an award-winning writer available for this project."

"Amen to that. I'm thankful for this job and a place to live. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined residing in such a grand dame of a Victorian. But, I'm letting you get off track, let's see... you were about to reveal the history of this place and its mysterious owner?"

Sister Rosario sighed and took a deep breath. She met my gaze with the look of a confidant.

"Near as we can discern, this mansion was built in the late 1880's, the same era as the great real estate boom in San Diego. That was a period of Old West grandeur. Wyatt Earp lived here, so did a dog named Bum. Who, for lack of a better description, was San Diego's canine mayor. Anyway, the boom attracted people from all walks of life. Americans, Europeans, Asians and the founding California Hispanics mingled and created their own unique society based on Hispanic and American culture. The original owner, Eric Blackthorne, fit superbly into the social scene of the time. He was quite a charmer, and wealthy to boot."

"So, he made a killing on the high tide of real estate investments... Is that how he managed to build this mansion?

"No, not at all. Blackthorne the Magician, that's what he was," Rosario said with a mischievous smile. "Stories abound about his antics and affairs. Parties 'til dawn with elaborate entertainment, including tables of faro and poker. He even hosted seances for the traveling circuit of clairvoyants. And then there were the scandalous relationships with San Diego's most prominent women. Quite a lady's man he was. Of course, there was a respectable side to the man as well. Blackthorne sponsored numerous charitable organizations and events."

"Sounds like he was a regular rogue," I surmised. "Is he buried near here?"

"Shannon! Leave it to you to sniff out the mystery in a man. Not a living soul knows where he is buried, let alone when he died. Blackthorne, the magician that he was, seems to have just vanished from the living."

"Really? No trace of his demise? I suppose his disappearance happened during one of his magical performances?"

Rosario's voice fell to a hush as she leaned forward. "It seems that Eric Blackthorne got involved with the wrong woman. He fell in love with Olivia Pico, the beautiful wife of one of San Diego's most prominent citizens: merchant-shipping magnate Captain Miguel Pico.

"Besides having a residence in town the Picos owned a ranch about an hour's drive from here in San Diego's back country near present-day Julian. Olivia spent most of her time in town so she could be close to her husband when he came into port. Often he docked just long enough to unload and restock cargo, and then off he sailed. During the winter months the couple would return to their ranch.

"Anyway, at the beginning of 1888, Olivia met Blackthorne through a mutual friend. They socialized in the same circles; so, it was only a matter of time before their paths crossed. Olivia was active in many community organizations and shortly after she became acquainted with Blackthorne the two were in the constant company of each other. Oh, sure, they came and went separately to events and such, but that was just a ruse to fool the prying eyes of the city's gossip mongers."

"And did their ruse work?" I asked.

"Evidently not. Social circles being what they were, the news about the passionate pair circulated quickly and Captain Pico caught wind of it. Imagine—the captain making dock after weeks at sea and then discovering his wife is in love with another man!"

"Rosario, did he actually catch them together?"

"Oh, dear, that he did and in the worst possible way. It was the first week of October and due to unpredictable weather, in this case, it was exceptionally fine, Captain Pico's ship came into port five days earlier than expected. Late one Sunday afternoon—in this very parlor—he saw them together. Blackthorne had hosted a benefit luncheon for the newly formed San Diego Opera Society, of which Olivia was a founding member and recording secretary. After the gathering had left, Olivia stayed to tidy up her notes. Of course by this time in the afternoon she and Blackthorne were alone in the house.

"Evidently, Captain Pico thought nothing of Olivia devoting so much of her time to social causes. He knew about his wife's dedication to the community and she served on many committees. The poor man suspected nothing. So it must have been a terrible shock when he stepped up to the porch and through the view of the front window he saw Olivia and Blackthorne clutched in a passionate embrace. Captain Pico stormed through the front door swearing and damming Blackthorne. He grabbed Olivia and practically dragged her all the way to their home two blocks from here!"

"Actually, Rosario, the entire event seems tame compared to the awful news headlines we read today. Though, I guess in the Victorian era the incident would have deeply humiliated everyone involved. How did all this figure into Blackthorne's disappearance? The magician didn't turn tail and run, did he?"

"No. In fact, Blackthorne vowed eternal love for Olivia. Of course, her husband made threats against him. Strange thing is that everything calmed down shortly afterwards. As husband and wife, the Picos returned unseasonably early to their ranch. Captain Pico didn't go out to sea until the following spring, and even then, he hired a second captain to split sea duty with."

"And Blackthorne?" I asked.

"He vanished without a trace. According to the old newspapers I read, not a soul ever reported seeing him after the incident. Also, he left a few remarks in his journal...and then, nothing."

"Rosario! You have Blackthorne's journal?"

"Yes, of course, that's how I know what happened. Furthermore, his journal prompted me to do follow-up research in newspapers of the 1880's. Blackthorne was a meticulous writer, and quite a romantic word smith, too. I came across his journal while gathering together his personal items to ship off to his relatives. What precious little there is of his, I packed into that old steamer chest," Rosario pointed to the opposite corner from where we sat. "It's due to be picked up tomorrow by a courier sent from the family."

I hadn't noticed the chest before. I couldn't resist the temptation to examine it. I crossed the parlor and knelt down in front of the chest. "Rosario, what a fascinating piece this is. Do you think it's part of Blackthorne's original estate?"

"Most certainly it is. His relatives described it perfectly. That chest is some sort of family heirloom. And they are adamant that the chest is returned. It's quite a conversation piece."

"You bet it is." Nearly three feet high, wider than my arm span and at least two feet deep, the intricately carved wood chest was magnificently preserved. "Do you have any idea what all these carved symbols mean? They appear to represent a hodgepodge of different cultures."

"You know, Shannon, I was wondering that myself. I recognize some of the Asian Zodiac signs and Egyptian hieroglyphics... and I think some of the other symbols might be Celtic. Honestly, though, your guess is as good as mine. Take a peek inside if you like."

"Wow! I'd love to. But it'll have to wait until I get all my stuff unpacked."

"Do remember to put the contents back in order before morning. And Shannon, what ever you do, don't try to move that darn thing, it weighs a ton. It's time for me to go. I must get back to the parish office and follow up on some details of this project. Oh, another thing I should caution you about, cell phones don't seem to work inside this house. If you stand outside, near the curb, the cell reception is fine. So, in case you need me, I left my number on the foyer table, there's a landline phone there. I'll return bright and early in the morning."

I helped Rosario into her overcoat and then we stepped out onto the front porch. I gave her a big hug. My favorite nun walked down the steps, turned around at the curb, blew a kiss and got in her car. Sister Rosario, what a dear you are.

Chapter 2

Back inside, I went upstairs to finish unpacking. Thoughts about Blackthorne's magician's chest spurred me on. I promised myself that after a relaxing scented bubble bath in the mammoth claw-foot tub I spied in the second-floor bathroom, I'd get comfy in my favorite pair of old jeans and raglan sweat-shirt and then head down to the parlor to explore the chest.

Finally, all my clothes were unpacked and I stood alone in the parlor. The silence disarmed me. I had expected a few groans now and then as the house gave into the wind's howl. But, it wasn't going to happen... this house was as solid as the Rock of Gibraltar.

I walked over to the magician's chest; knelt down on the plush Turkish rug and I let my fingers do the walking over the chest's decorative exterior. The carvings were rich and deep beneath my touch. I unlatched the heavy lock and grasping the front edge of the lid, I gave a heave-ho that opened the chest and released a flurry of dust from the interior. I peered inside to discover a pile of neatly folded fabrics, on top of which, was a leather-bound journal. Putting aside the compact book, I picked up the first fold of fabric; a garment resembling—what else—but a magician's black satin cape. How theatrical!

Next, I pulled out a heavy woolen overcoat that seemed more like something a sailor would have worn instead of a magician. And much to my disappointment, the last item was a disgustingly dirty cargo-sized canvas bag, heavily blotched with rust-colored stains. YUCK! Under the bag there was a thin layer of crumbly, black dust covering the bottom. Weird, totally weird!

"Oh, well," I said aloud just to break the uncomfortable silence, "Not every mystery is a profound one." I began to put the items back as I had found them. Draping the cape back into its folds a slip of paper fluttered out of a hidden pocket from a side seam in the cape. The moment I saw it, I knew that somehow it was a missing link. Unfolding the note, I read: "Tonight at midnight. Leave door unlatched. In disguise."

The cryptic message puzzled me. Who wrote it... and why? I reached for the journal to compare the note's script to Blackthorne's handwriting. Clearly, he didn't write this note. Blackthorne must have been the recipient. The note's small and delicate cursive penmanship made me believe a woman wrote it. I could only wonder: Did Olivia send this note to arrange one last meeting with her lover? Was she hoping to avoid discovery by wearing a disguise? And whose door was to be left unlatched. Would the two of them risk meeting at Olivia's home...? Was this message her way of telling Blackthorne to leave his door unlocked so she might enter unnoticed, in disguise? All these questions circled around in my mind.

I began reading Blackthorne's journal hoping to find a clue. Rosario was right about Blackthorne's penchant for writing details in a romantic hand. Skimming over the first few entries, it was clear to me that Rosario had pretty much summarized the entire journal... Except for the very last entry, which Blackthorne seemed to have written very hastily: My Darling, I will die haunted by your love. Why... Olivia, Why?

I felt as if this final phrase—Blackthorne's last known words—were reaching out to me. Did Olivia reject his affection? Yet, according to Rosario's account, these two were inseparable. I let that query go round and round in my mind as I searched back through the pages of his journal. Finally, in a glance at my watch I realized I had spent the whole evening delving into the mystery of Blackthorne's chest. It was nearly two in the morning and my eyes were too weary to stay open much longer. Too tired to walk up stairs, I grabbed an afghan from a nearby chair and curled up on the parlor sofa. Sleep hit me like a sledgehammer.

The dream came in swirls of fog... tendrils of clouds drifting up from the open chest. I tried to tell myself to wake up, snap out of it, but I couldn't shake the hypnotic power of the dream.

Blackthorne's cape rose from the chest and made a fluttering movement toward me, mimicking the menacing posture of a predatory beast. At first, the cape appeared solid in form. Then, as it was closing in on me it took on a filmy appearance, as if woven from cobwebs. Asleep, I watched in horror. My thoughts raced to find logic in what I saw, in what I was experiencing. Does a cape stand erect? Does a cape take on the presence of a man's form and turn a cavernous face to stare at me with abysmally dark eyes? Does a cape drift toward me, lifting a pair of ragged sleeves that stretch out to beckon me?

My heart pounded as I lay on the sofa... paralyzed by fear. I focused on every detail of what I saw. The cape, the ghost—whatever IT was—was not solid mass. Particles of dust outlined its profile while a sulfur yellow vaporous concentration stirred the nightmare into the shape of a man. Are you Eric Blackthorne?

He crouched over me and his hands reached up and cupped my face in tenderness, "Olivia," he whispered. Suddenly, he broke the caress and I felt a chill as his fingers encircled my neck. He looked down at me with manic anger and hissed "Miguel, this is all your wretchedness, your evildoing!"

Panic surged through my veins and my body shivered uncontrollably as I fought to find my voice. I screamed as if saving my life and eternal soul depended on it, "No! I'm not Miguel. I'm Shannon! My name is Shannon!"

My pleading fell on dead ears. His fingers tightened around my neck, breath was being squeezed out of me. Somehow, I knew he intended to don me, to wear me as his disguise to live out his revenge— "Eric!" I pleaded. "Let me go. I can help you, I WILL HELP YOU!" Frantically, I wondered: Can a ghost be reasoned with?

I raised my arms to push him back. Amazed that I felt substance to his form, I lifted my knees under his weight and pushed with all my strength. The maneuver bought me enough time to scramble off the sofa and stand firmly on my feet.

Eric hovered over me, but I was relentless, I pounded my fists on his chest and shouted, "Olivia's dead, she's dead! I'm Shannon!" Silence struck the room like thunder. The air was electric!

Eric turned away from me as if to shield his acknowledgment of the truth. When he turned back around, I saw not a ghostly mad man, but a very life-like human man bereft with emotional torment. He bowed to me in a gesture so elegant it could only be that of a magician. Then he spoke, and I was dumb-struck!

"Forgive me Shannon, please forgive me. Like a genie waits to be released from a bottle, I have waited in abysmal agony for the right person to release me from this realm of limbo. For generations I have waited..."

"Waited? For me?"

"Yes, Shannon. You and only you can prove my honor and reveal the wicked deeds of Miguel Pico. Shannon, you will solve the mystery that will put my soul to rest... I have waited for you."

"But, how... How am I supposed to unravel your mystery... HOW?"

A ghost had nearly scared the life out of me. Now, a man, looking every bit alive as myself whispered, "Follow your heart, Shannon. Tomorrow, you will follow your heart."

And with those words, Eric Blackthorne smiled, whirled his cape and with a turn toward his magic chest he vanished into thin air.

I barely remember collapsing on the sofa. I woke the next morning to the delicious aroma of Mexican coffee. Just as promised, Sister Rosario had returned bright and early.

Chapter 3

"Good morning Shannon. Have a seat. Here's some coffee to get you going."

I sat down at the kitchen table and gratefully sipped from the mug Rosario handed me. I tried to clear my thoughts, to brush away cobwebs in order to make sense of what I wanted to ask her.

"Rosario, is this place haunted?"

"Haunted?" Rosario lifted an eyebrow and took a seat directly across from me. "Why in the world would you think this house is haunted?"

"Oh, it's just a thought. I had this really spooky experience last night. I guess it was just a dream. But, there are such things as ghosts, aren't there?"

"Shannon, maybe you had a very vivid dream. If what you mean by 'ghost' is a spirit visitation... then I would agree. I do believe that the dearly departed can make their presence known, especially if they want to intervene on behalf of a loved one. Dear child, what—exactly—happened here last night?"

Rosario's look of concern was so dear I couldn't bring myself to tell her all the gory details about my first night in Blackthorne House.

"Oh, silly me. You, better than anyone, know how I can let my imagination get the best of me. Remember when I was in seventh grade and I went on a country camping trip with my friends from school? We stayed up most the night telling scary stories and when I finally went to sleep; within a few hours I woke everyone up screaming like a banshee?"

"Oh, I'll never forget that night! Why, all us pajama-clad chaperones came running to you, thinking a bear or a snake had gotten into your cabin. When we got there, you were sitting up in bed, white as a sheet and nobody could make sense of what you were saying. It wasn't until after a round of hot chocolate that you and the other girls got back to sleep. Did you have bad dreams last night?"

"Not really bad, just very weird. And now that I am trying to remember it, my dream seems far away... the only thing I can remember is someone telling me to follow my heart."

Rosario scrutinized me, "Seems to me that following one's heart is usually good advice. Just don't wear your heart on your sleeve, you're young enough that you have plenty of time before making up your mind to settle down. Now, to change the subject... how about breakfast? I'm fixing a Spanish omelet, want to share it with me?"

"Sure do," I answered. "Then I'm going to make a list of the things I'll need to organize the writing of this project. I brought my laptop computer with me, but I need to buy a scanner-printer and a few other techie things to set up a proper office. Where's a good electronics store?"

"I'll draw you a map. There's a couple stores nearby that should have what you need. You know, around here you'll need a car. You can borrow mine. We can leave together, that way you can drop me off at my office and pick me up later."

"Sounds like a good plan. But what about the courier who's coming to get Blackthorne's chest?"

"He phoned right before you woke up. He'll be here in about two hours. That gives us enough time to have breakfast and for you to get ready. Thank goodness the wind has stopped. I'd hate for you to have to go out in it."

Having a plan for the day made me feel at home. After breakfast I took Rosario up on her offer that I not help with the dishes and I skipped up the stairs to get dressed, humming a little tune I hadn't thought about in years, Somewhere over the rainbow...

I put on a comfortable denim skirt and an emerald green wool sweater and slipped my feet into my favorite pair of penny loafers. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I drew my auburn hair up into a ponytail and looked critically at my face. Not too bad for a restless night's sleep. My skin seemed a little sallow and my eyes, normally bright hazel green, looked dull as swamp water. Obviously, last night's haunting experience had taken a toll—I was looking tired and older than my twenty-four years. Ah, what the heck! I was determined to start a new life and I wasn't going to let the loss of sleep get in my way. I fairly floated down the stairway until—

Rosario said my scream would have waked the dead. All I remember is waking up in the arms of a ghost—whom Rosario insisted, was the great-great-grand nephew of Eric Blackthorne. Well... so much for seeing ghosts!

"Good grief! Shannon, you nearly scared the life out of me!" Rosario complained.

"I'm so sorry. Really, I thought there was a ghost standing right behind you—"

"—I suppose that would be me," the tall, dark and handsome, and very much alive, man said as he gingerly placed me upright. "Allow me introduce myself, I'm Alex Blackthorne. The original owner of this place was my great-great-grand uncle."

"Well, now," Rosario interjected, "being that we've solved the mystery of Shannon's ghost, let's have a sit-down in the parlor. I have coffee ready. Alex, you do have time to sit a-spell?"

"Yes," he replied and then gestured for me to step in front of him.

I followed Rosario into the parlor. And Alex followed me. It took every ounce of my reserve to resist staring at Alex. His identical likeness to the ghost of Eric Blackthorne convinced me that I hadn't let my imagination run wild. Blackthorne, as a ghost, did indeed visit me last night. For now, I dismissed the ghostly visitation as a nuisance and concentrated on the immediate situation. How would I convince Alex that something wicked had happened to his ancestor Eric Blackthorne?

Chapter 4

We sat at the alcove table and sipped coffee as Rosario gave Alex the third degree with the finesse that all nuns perfect an expertise at doing after a lifetime of listening to people from all walks of life. I watched and listened to the exchange. Alex never flinched. He held his own under Rosario's polite grilling. If he felt the heat, he sure didn't show it.

"Alex," I said, to interrupt Rosario's routine, "it's so amazing that your great-great-grandfather Edmund was an identical twin brother to Eric Blackthorne. Do you have photos of them... I ask, because it would be wonderful to have copies of them for the history I am chronicling of this home's renovation."

"Yes, I do. If you have time today I'll be glad to show them to you. I live a few blocks from here and we could meet later, maybe about seven this evening?" Alex looked at both of us.

"Why Alex, how generous of you," Rosario slipped in. "Whatever you have to offer in the way of family history is greatly appreciated. However, I won't be able to take you up on the offer, and Shannon hasn't a car yet. She arrived only yesterday from Chicago—"

"No problem," Alex interjected as he turned to face me, "How about if I pick you up at seven?"

"Sounds great!" I answered.

"Well, then, it's settled," Rosario picked up the coffee cups and turned to look at Alex, "Are you taking that chest now?" she asked as she glanced over toward the corner where Blackthorne's chest was.

Alex got up and walked over to the chest. He looked at it thoughtfully and remarked in a wistful tone, "I'd forgotten how impressive it is. As a child I was fascinated by it. But my Aunt Dora was a fanatic about it, wouldn't let anyone touch it. She kept it in her room. I saw it open only once."

"There's not much in it," I offered, "and...uh, it's not locked. Last night I peeked inside."

Alex looked perplexed, as if he couldn't decide to open it or not.

"I think I'll wait 'til I get it back to my home," he said with a wry smile. "I brought a hand dolly with me so if you'll hold the door open, I'll get this loaded into my truck and be on my way."

Alex strapped up the chest and hauled it out the door and down the steps. Before he drove away he said, "It was nice meeting you, Shannon. If you think this house and chest are interesting, then I know you'll enjoy the family mementos you'll see tonight. Should I call first before heading over to get you?"

"No, not necessary, I'll be ready at seven."

Chapter 5

That evening, Alex showed up exactly at seven on the dot and he was wearing formal attire. When I opened the door, I couldn't contain my surprise. "Alex, you look so...formal!

He smiled, stepped into the foyer and bowed in such an exaggerated manner that I couldn't help but to think he looked like his magician ancestor.

"My lady, your escort awaits. Shall we?"

And with that, Alex gestured me out the door.

In the ten-minute drive to his house he let me in on the real reason he was dressed up. Apparently, Alex Blackthorne had more in common—than just good looks—with his great-great-grand Uncle Eric. Alex had been bitten by the magic bug as a little boy and had taken up sleight-of-hand tricks that he perfected throughout his twenty-nine years of life. Now, besides teaching merchant marine history at the local university, he volunteered spare time to teach magic tricks to kids and teens in a community recreation after-school program. As we drove into his driveway, I made him promise to show me a magic trick.

"It'll be my pleasure, but first there's someone I want you to meet," Alex said.

"Really?" I asked, thinking he lived alone.

Alex's home was a lovely Spanish colonial with arched windows and a red tile roof. Inside the entry hall, dark wood floors complemented the textured buff-colored plaster walls. Rooms were accessed from arched open doorways.

I followed him into the first room on the left, a living room decorated in muted colors of slate blue, garnet and gold, the walls and floor were the same as the hall.

"Shannon, please be seated. It'll take me just a moment, excuse me."

He disappeared around the corner. I sat down on the sofa and took my note pad and pen out, ready to make note of whatever photos would be interesting to use on the project. And then, like magic Alex appeared before me and with him was one of the largest dogs I'd ever seen.

"Oh-My-Gosh, Alex, that's an Irish Wolfhound!"

"Shannon, meet Atlas. Atlas, meet Shannon."

"Hello, tall dark and handsome," I teased, putting my hand out to the gentle giant. "In Chicago, my editor had wolfies, that's what he called the breed. I used to dog sit whenever he went out of town."

Alex laughed and was obviously pleased with my familiarity of the breed. And judging by his dog's soft groans, Atlas appreciated the fact that I knew how to give a giant dog really good ear noogies by rubbing my knuckles behind his ears.

"Looks to me like Atlas has a new best friend." Alex motioned the dog over to the sofa and I followed.

"Does Atlas do tricks, too?"

"I've always considered the fact that he doesn't destroy everything in sight and knock stuff off tables, or better yet—steal food off tables—to be his best trick. Along those lines, I did promise you some sleight of hand. But I'll need to borrow a sheet of paper from you." "By all means," I handed him a clean sheet from my legal pad and looked up in great anticipation.

"I will now fold this sheet of paper into nine perfect rectangles." That done, he handed the paper to me and said, "Now, please write your name on the center square."

With a flourish I wrote my name in the center and handed the paper back to him.

"Next, these squares must be creased and torn apart. Would you like to do this, or shall I?"

"Does it make a difference to the outcome?" I asked.

"No, not at all." He winked.

"Then, you do it, I was never good at creasing and tearing paper."

Alex carefully creased all the folds and tore them into nine rectangles. Then he reached behind his back and pulled out a brown grocery bag, (he must have had it tucked into his belt), and dropped all the pieces of paper into the bag and handed the bag to me. "Take a look inside, count the pieces to make sure all nine there and use your fingers to toss them around a bit, or as much as you like." He winked a second time.

I did as instructed and handed the bag back to him, but he refused.

"No, just hold the bag out at waist level, I will turn around so I can't see the contents as I reach into it."

Alex turned from view of the bag and slipped his hand into it. Within the wink of an eye he raised his hand and opened his palm to reveal the single square piece of paper I had written my name on!

"No way! How did you do that?" I challenged.

"Trade secret," He said, grinning broadly.

I just looked at him and smiled. "Okay, enough tricks. Show me your family photos, it's the real reason I came along." I mocked a fake sneer.

"Right this way, my lady."

We walked into a den-combination-library where Alex had an array of family photos and mementos.

"I'm not sure what you're interested in. Where do we start?"

"How about those posters," I pointed to the wall adjacent the fireplace.

"Ah...those are some of my favorites. Most are of Eric Blackthorne; they're his performance posters. As you can see, he was well known and performed in many cities. This one," he stepped up to one that had caught my eye right away, "was from an engagement in San Francisco. October thirty-first, Halloween night. The colors and graphics are dramatic—"

"—And so is the uncanny identical resemblance between you and him!" I remarked.

He seemed taken back by my remark, "Well, you're not the first person to notice. Keep in mind my great-great-grandfather Edmund was an identical twin to Eric. Really, it's not so unusual. Twins run in my family, in fact, my Aunt Dora is a twin, her sister was named Darla. I never knew her, she died before I was born."

Obviously, Alex was not comfortable with this topic; I tried to get the conversation back on track. "The Halloween poster is very dramatic and it has a surreal quality, whereas these others have more of a carnival feel."

"I suspect it is the difference in venues," Alex suggested. "I'm not sure, but so far, my research shows that different performance companies, or show promoters, had their particular ideas when it came to advertising, which of course is what all these posters were used for."

"They are a wonderful find, I hope we can have copies of all of them for the project."

"No problem, I have an artwork publisher here in town who does expert reproductions. I'll let Sister Rosario know to expect them."

"May I see photos, now?"

Alex gestured for me to sit on the sofa as he crossed the room to the mantle bookcase where he retrieved a large old-fashion photography album. Stepping over Atlas who was napping at my feet, Alex sat beside me and opened the first page, "If this gets tedious, just say so. I know how boring it can get flipping through pages and pages of photos of strangers."

"I promise, I won't be bored, I think your family must have an amazing history."

The time between opening the album and turning the last page flew by. I looked up from my note pad and was disappointed to see the album closed.

"That just about does it, unless you have questions?" Alex said.

"Um, what happened to your Aunt Dora?"

The look of surprise on his face was palatable. "Aunt Dora? I visit her occasionally. She lives in an active-retirement facility near here. I didn't know you had an interest in her. I may have more photos, somewhere..."

"It's just that you said she was fanatic about Eric Blackthorne, or at least about his magician's chest."

"Oh... well, yes she was. When I lived in the mansion—that's how I used to think of Blackthorne House—Aunt Dora's room was on the second floor, first room on the right. Mine was directly across from hers. She would wake sometimes in the middle of the night and come out into the hall, trouble was, well, she was sleep walking. Except, she called it 'dream walking.' I liked to keep my room door open. So imagine waking up during the night and finding Aunt Dora dreamily floating about on the second floor, going in and out of rooms. She was harmless, nevertheless I was worried she would hurt herself, especially if she ever tried dream walking down the stairs."

"Did she ever say why she did what she did?"

"Not really, at least nothing that ever made sense. The morning after one of her dream walking episodes, she'd spend hours at the desk in the front parlor writing. I guess she was recording what she could remember of her episode. Sometimes I would ask her about it. But her answers never made sense to me. She felt very strongly about what happened to Eric Blackthorne. But as a family, we just humored her and nothing was ever done about her suspicions."

"Alex, do remember what your Aunt Dora said about Eric?"

Alex's face turned somber and he looked me straight in the face, "She believed he was murdered, still does."

"And you, what do you believe?"

"I don't know. I'm hoping there will be some clue in his chest."

That said, we both looked over at the corner where Blackthorne's magician's chest stood.

Chapter 6

It's hard to say who startled Atlas first, Alex or me. We both rose from the sofa with such determination that it jolted the dog from his sleep. We got to the chest at the same time and knelt down on the floor. I warned Alex, "The lid is heavy, when I opened it I did it too quickly and it stirred up a cloud of dust."

Alex gave me a long sidelong glance and carefully raised the chest lid. The three of us looked inside. Alex wagged a finger at Atlas and told him, "Look but don't touch." Atlas obediently kept his distance.

"You're right about there not being much in here." Alex said as he lifted Blackthorne's journal. "Did you read it?"

"I skimmed it. If you want a tell-all book review, ask Sister Rosario. She can give you all the juicy details along with a summary of her take on his life and times. It must have been an exceptionally good read, 'cause it prompted Rosario to do research in old newspapers from the 1800's."

After setting down the journal on a nearby table, Alex picked up the cape, gave it a cursory once over and put it on top of the journal. Then he carefully picked up the cargo bag, "This is unusual, I wouldn't think a magician would have need for a seaman's cargo bag. Look at these stains..." He held the bag up in full view, something I hadn't done because of the horrible markings on it. "...They look like dried blood, I've seen these kind of rust colored blotches on bags discarded along fishing docks."

I didn't know what to say. I hadn't even thought of what could have caused the stains. "Alex, if it is blood, could it be Eric's?"

"That's what I'm wondering and I know of a way to find out. If this is blood, there will be DNA evidence; at least I hope so. And, since I'm a direct relative to Eric Blackthorne, then a comparison between our DNA will prove if it is, or isn't my ancestor's blood that's on this cargo bag. Before we delve any deeper into this, I'm going to put this bag in a large plastic trash bag to preserve what evidence there may be. I'll be right back." He left the room and returned immediately. I held the plastic bag open as Alex dropped the cargo bag into it.

"I have a friend in Galveston, Texas who works in a DNA lab, I'll call him to see if he'll run tests on this."

"Good idea." I agreed. "It's amazing what DNA can prove. Did you see the black dust in the bottom of the chest?"

Alex dipped his left hand into the dust and rubbed the dust between in thumb and fingers. "Feels gritty. Nothing like anything I've ever come across in merchant marine history. I don't think the dust is from any organic source like seashells or sand. I can take a sample of this to some colleagues at the university, see what they think it is. Shannon, would you mind... in that desk on the other side of you there's stationery, please hand me a an envelope."

I got a large envelope and held it open as Alex scooped some of the black dust into it. He tucked the enveloped flap toward the inside instead of licking the seal, Good move, I thought, I sure wouldn't lick an envelope that had that dust in it!

"I guess that about does it, just like you said, there isn't much in the chest," Alex commented with a look of disappointment.

"It's too bad that there isn't more in it. But who's to say that at one time there wasn't. Maybe your Aunt Dora would know?" I suggested.

"I'd rather not trouble Dora, not until I have some kind of evidence to go on. I'm sorry Shannon, this seems as much as a disappointment to you as it is to me." Alex stood up, brushed his hands on his jeans and then leaned over to help me up. I took his hand and looked up to see his brown eyes flicker over my face. I couldn't help but wonder if he could see that I knew something he didn't. In the warm glow of the subdued lighting and the dancing firelight, Alex's handsome face, with his dark hair framing his strong features, gave him a look of irresistible mystery befitting the cover of a romance novel. Caught up in my imagination, I lost my balance as I straightened up and bumped his shoulder—

"Whoa...are you okay, Shannon? Alex placed his hands on my shoulders; his gently strong touch and his endearing look of concern rattled me.

"Oh, sure, just a bit of jet lag. I guess I still need to catch up on sleep." I felt shy meeting his gaze.

"Here, sit down," Alex said has he steered me toward the sofa. "I have just the thing to revive you, I put a pot of coffee on when we got here and then forgot about it. Do you take cream or sugar?"

"No, just black. But, Alex, it's so late, maybe I shouldn't. I've taken up so much of your time..."

"No problem for me, tomorrow is Saturday, I'm off. But if you need to get home?"

I laughed, the jet lag had gotten to me, "Silly me, I've lost track of the days. Alex, I'd love some coffee."

"Stay put, keep Atlas company and I'll be right back," Alex gave me a wink.

I dropped my hand to pet Atlas. The big pooch looked up at me with such appreciation I couldn't help but smile and shake off some of my tiredness. "Oh, Atlas, as my granny used to say, 'there's nothing quite like a dog and a dame', a dog can be a woman's best friend, too." The wag of his tail told me he agreed.

Chapter 7

I had padded into the kitchen so quietly that she hadn't noticed me and it gave me the chance to sneak up behind and give her a big hug, "Good Morning, Rosario."

"Hello, sleeping beauty," She smiled and returned my hug. "I'm glad you finally caught up on the sleep you needed."

"Oh, Rosario, I had the most interesting evening at Alex's," she placed a mug of coffee in my hands and gave me a do-tell look.

"Details!" she chided with the tone of an army sergeant. We sat next to each other at the kitchen table, just like old times when she would come to my parents' home for a weekend visit. I always got up early on those occasions, just so I wouldn't have to share her attention with my brother.

"First, I met Atlas, his Irish Wolfhound. He's such a sweet dog, and he's the perfect example of why the breed is called a gentle giant. Then, Alex performed a sleight-of-hand trick. Oh, I wish I could explain how he did it, but you'll just have to ask him to do it for you. It was magic! And so much fun!"

"My, my, quite a charmer he is, this Alex. Perhaps he resembles his magician ancestor more than we know," Rosario said with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

"Yes..." I agreed, "...He has an uncanny resemblance to Eric Blackthorne. I saw performance posters of Eric and the identical likeness between him and Alex is astounding. But, you know... twins run in his family."

"Who else is a twin?"

"His Aunt Dora is," I explained. "Her identical twin sister is named Darla. Dora lives nearby, Darla died before Alex was born."

"Well, that explains the woman I spoke with on the phone in the very beginning of this project, she must have been Dora. She said a courier was going to pick up the chest, but then Alex called yesterday and said he would. I had no idea he lived so close by."

"I'm glad he lives nearby. Just wait 'til you see the family mementos we get to use for chronicling this project. They are stunning and will add an intriguing touch of history to the brochure I'm writing. By the way, Alex said he would have a local art studio take care of duplicating the photos and posters and would notify you about the arrangements."

"Sounds good. What else did you learn?" Rosario asked.

"We explored the chest. Alex thinks the stains on that yucky old bag might be blood. So, he's sending it to a friend in Texas who does DNA testing. Wouldn't it be intriguing if it turns out to be Eric Blackthorne's blood?"

"My goodness! Is this your imagination talking, or does Alex agree with your suspicions?"

"Oh, he definitely does. And, remember the strange black dust...well, Alex is taking a sample of it to a colleague at the university."

"Very interesting, indeed! Seems to me that the two of you make a good detective team. So what are your plans today, more detective work?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure. I'm sorta undecided. I'd like to interview Aunt Dora, but Alex seems hesitant about involving her."

"He's probably protective of her. If she is the same woman I talked with, she sounded quite elderly and maybe not in the best of health. However, I have a phone number for her, and she did say she would be happy to help with this project. Maybe you should give her a call and just ask if she is agreeable to being interviewed."

"You always have the right answers. Of course, I'll call her," I promised.

And call her is what I did. As it turns out, Aunt Dora, she insisted I call her that, was excited about me wanting to interview her, she even invited me to lunch!

I gave careful consideration as to what to wear and after trying on several outfits I decided on a pair of mulberry colored wool slacks, an ivory turtleneck skinny-rib sweater and low-heeled navy pumps. I pulled my hair back into a long French braid and donned by favorite pair of small gold hoop earrings. Reflecting on my appearance in the mirror, I looked proper, but not stuck-up or snooty, as Rosario would say. I looked like I was going to visit my favorite aunt, I hoped Dora would approve.

Chapter 8

Aunt Dora lived in the type of retirement community we all hope to afford when we reach her age. Loma Vista Village sat on rolling hills above a drive that led to tall ornate black iron gates. I pulled up to the guardhouse and announced my purpose. The uniformed guard gave me a polite nod, opened the gates and pointed me in the right direction. Aunt Dora's cottage was on a curved lane cozily landscaped with small juniper shrubs and rows of yellow pansies. I parked and walked up to the front. Just as I was about to ring the doorbell, the door opened and I stood face to face with the most sour looking old woman I had ever laid eyes on.

"Uh, oh. Hello, I'm here to see Aunt Dora," I mustered, with a hope that this woman who was giving me a once over with an evil eye was not Dora.

"Yes. Well. She did say you would be coming. For lunch. Follow me." She commanded in stunted abrupt phrases, but never bothered to introduce herself. I followed her through a small foyer and past a lovely living room into a formal dining room where I was told to "Seat yourself. Miss Dora will be with you in a moment." And then she left.

"Hello, dear, so nice of you to visit," Aunt Dora said as she approached from behind me.

I turned to meet her, and found she was exactly as I had imagined—a little shorter than me, petite, with snowy white hair that curled around her head in a halo. And her eyes...dark and shiny, they betrayed her years with a depth and brightness that seemed ageless... smiling eyes, that's how my mom would have described them. She was adorable... Aunt Dora was a pixie!

"Aunt Dora, I am so very happy to meet you." I started to get up, but she gestured me down.

"Just stay put, let me get situated," Dora instructed as she arranged herself in the dining chair.

"It's been quite a while, too long, since I have had the pleasure to hold company with a young person. Just let me gaze at you for a moment, it helps me adjust my vision."

I sat still and smiled at her. It may seem odd to say that I did that without awkwardness, but I did. And sitting there quietly with Dora seemed natural and peaceful.

"You are just as I imagined you would be," Dora commented. "And my nephew described you perfectly. Alexander has always had good sense and judgement about people. He said you are to be trusted."

"I, uh, I'm not sure what to say," I flustered.

"Oh, no need to say anything," Aunt Dora assured me. "Let's have lunch." She rang a delicate silver bell that made the most enchanting tinkling sound. "Judith has prepared a quiche and salad, I hope you will enjoy it."

Judith, the aforementioned sour looking woman, appeared with a large tray. She deftly set lunch-filled plates before us. As quietly as she entered, she retreated and re-appeared immediately with beverages.

"Thank you, Judith. I'll ring should we require anything." Dora smiled at Judith and then Judith left without so much as a word or gesture.

"Judith is an excellent cook, though she has never been one to waste words or movements," Dora explained with a small smile.

While we ate we made small talk for a while, mostly about my background and how I came to be hired to journal the Blackthorne House project. Then, almost as if Dora could read my thoughts, she asked—

"What is it that you would like to learn about my ancestor, Eric Blackthorne, the magician?"

Stunned by her candidness, I took a sip of water to gather my wits about me. Thinking quickly, I decided to be straightforward. "I am curious to learn what you know, or suspect, about his disappearance."

"I believe he was murdered by Captain Pico." Dora answered without hesitation. Then a shadow darkened her face; she looked directly at me and frowned. "I know that Eric had hired a detective to investigate Pico, but I do not know why. I suspect that the detective discovered something illegal about Pico and when Eric confronted him, Pico killed him."

I was riveted. "Please tell me more."

Aunt Dora turned her attention to look out the window and then gazed back at me, "I'm afraid there's not anything else to tell."

"May I ask, how did you come by this information?"

"Stay here, I have something to show you. It's best I show you, instead of try to explain." Dora left the table and within a few minutes returned carrying an old wooden box, about the size of a contemporary shoe-box. She set it in front of me, opened it and withdrew a bundle of letters tied with a white stain ribbon.

"Here, Shannon, you'll find these intriguing."

I accepted the letters. "Who wrote these, and to whom?"

"I wish I knew dear, those answers would help with the mystery. You see... I came by them quite by accident. When I lived at Blackthorne manor I stayed in the first room on the right, on the second floor...seems to me that Alexander mentioned this is the same room you are using?"

"Why, yes it is," I confirmed.

"Oh, I did so love that room...airy, lovely view from the window and the afternoon sun creates a rosy glow that filters into the room is such an cheery mood. Eric loved that room, too. It was where he practiced most of his illusions."

"Really, I had no idea that you, or Eric, ever occupied that room."

"Oh, yes, yes, we did, course not at the same time." Dora giggled. Then she composed herself and in a serious tone said, "Those letters, I discovered them in that room. One day, when I was a teenager, I was given permission to re-do the room. Oh, I had grand ideas about having a large four-poster bed and silk wallpaper done up in romantic roses, and yards of lace for the windows... I suppose all young women want a touch of romance in their lives at that age, I was no different. Well, a work crew was hired to strip the old wallpaper, that was when it was discovered."

"IT?"

"Yes, the hidden wall safe. It was a little door, rather like a hatch, that was located behind the large dressing mirror that hung on the wall adjacent to the window. Inside the little space were those letters. It was all so exciting. I was the only family member home at the time, so I took the letters in hopes of discovering some great mystery about the manor."

"And, did you?"

"Well, Shannon, you can see for yourself. Do you read Spanish?"

"No, but I know someone who is fluent in it. Sister Rosario!"

"Well, I tried reading them, but my Spanish was never very good. Everything I have told you is what I could determine from the letters. Now, dear, the letters are in your hands. All I ask is that you keep me informed and you share every bit of what you find out with Alexander. Do you promise?"

"Oh, you bet I do. Why, Aunt Dora, these letters could be the breakthrough evidence we need to solve the disappearance of Eric Blackthorne. I can hardly wait to show them to Rosario and Alex!"

"Then, off you go!" Exclaimed Dora with a smile and an exaggerated gesture.

"Aunt Dora, I can't thank you enough. Either Alex or I will phone you as soon as we know something, is it a deal?"

"To be sure, child, to be sure."

Chapter 9

I arrived home to an empty Blackthorne House. Rosario had left a note saying she wouldn't be back until tomorrow due to afternoon and evening meetings at the parish. She invited me to raid the refrigerator, but food was the last thing on my mind. I wasn't sure what to do next. Should I call Alex and let him know about the letters? Or should I wait for Rosario, which meant I would have to wait until tomorrow morning? The emptiness of the huge house echoed my feelings of being alone and burdened with questions I desperately wanted immediate answers to.

I called Alex and gave him a brief description of my visit with Dora and told him about the letters. He was excited about the idea of going over the letters and said he'd come over about seven.

Relieved that I wouldn't have to spend the evening alone pondering over the next step to take in unraveling the mystery at hand, I bounded up the stairs with renewed determination. After changing my clothes and loosening up my hair to my usual free-flowing style, I set about to see what was in the kitchen worthy of serving up as munchies for Eric's visit.

BINGO! The doorbell chimed at seven-o-clock on the dot. I opened the door to find Eric with a pizza in hand, held high out of Atlas' reach.

"Hope you don't mind, bringing him along," Eric nodded toward Atlas, "but he heard me say your name and began to prance about. I didn't have the heart to leave him at home."

"Okay, that explains bringing along my new best friend," I stepped aside to make way for both of them, "but the pizza? Is that for us or him?"

"Oh, all of us," Eric smiled and handed the pizza to me, "that's why I got an extra large pizza with sausage, but no pepperoni...the really spicy stuff gives the big guy horrible indigestion. And believe me, it's no fun being in the same room with an Irish wolfhound that has a wamby tummy."

"Thanks, I'll take your word for it." I answered as we walked into the kitchen.

Alex was familiar enough with the kitchen to set out glasses and pour sodas; he even knew where to find a bowl large enough to serve as a watering hole for Atlas. As I set out plates, Alex carefully cut a slice of pizza into small bites for Atlas and set them down on a paper towel beside the water bowl. Alex and I sat across from each other.

"This was thoughtful of you," I commented. "I rummaged around here and came up with coffee, tea, and some apple pie that Rosario brought yesterday. We can have it for dessert," I offered.

"Sure, sounds good," Alex said in an offhand manner. "Aunt Dora called me and said she had a wonderful visit with you, somehow it doesn't surprise me she gave you those letters."

I looked directly at him to see if he was fishing for a reaction, but Alex was not an easy person to read. "I hope you don't mind that I went to see her?" I fished back.

"No, really, Shannon, I don't. And bedsides, look what you came away with! I've been hinting at those letters for years and I never so much as got a look at them! If anything, I am envious!"

"Alex, I don't know what to say, or how to explain this situation. Honest, I didn't ask her for the letters, how could I, I didn't even know they existed."

"Oh, I know that. Don't concern yourself about it. Aunt Dora has always been peculiar in the way she takes a liking to particular people. Obviously she liked you and chose you."

"Chose me?"

"Yes. Like it or not, Aunt Dora thinks you are the key to solving the mystery of Eric Blackthorne. Don't try to make sense of it, I'm sure there isn't any logic to explain her decision. Aunt Dora has always operated her life on a sixth-sense type of reality. And the thing is, Shannon, she has never been wrong."

I stared at him and he smiled, quite content he was with this conundrum regarding the letters to have been dropped in my lap.

"Do you read Spanish?" I asked.

"A little. I think Rosario will be the best interpreter. But, I want to see the letters and give my survival Spanish a try."

"I have them laid out on the large table in the front parlor. I tried to put them in chronological order, maybe you can do it better than I," I suggested.

"Hey then, I'm ready. Shall we adjourn to the parlor?" Alex got up and led the way.

Chapter 10

I had arranged the letters into five stacks, left to right as we faced the table. Alex picked up the first stack and thumbed through the three documents.

"How many letters are there, all together?" he asked.

"There's nine letters and in with them I found some other papers, in the last bunch there's what appears to be a page from a newspaper somewhere in South America. And in the stack you're holding there's what looks like to be a ship's manifest along with another document that's some kind of a contract, it's the only piece of information in English," I explained. "Also, I didn't put them in those envelopes, that's how Aunt Dora gave them to me."

"She probably did that to try and categorize them," Alex commented as he laid out the contents from the first stack. Unfolding the document that I thought was a contract, Alex scanned it and said, "It's addressed to Eric Blackthorne and it's from a Herbert Dodd. It goes on to say that he, meaning Dodd, is agreeing to the terms set forth in a previous correspondence and that he will correspond as soon as he arrives in Manizales." Then pointing to the bottom of the page, Alex said, "Shannon, look at this signature, it is H. Dodd, Agent: Pinkerton Detective Agency, Chicago." Alex turned to me with a look of intense curiosity, "Why on earth would Eric Blackthorne hire a detective to go to South America?"

"Maybe the other two letters in this stack hold a clue," I suggested as I handed them to Alex.

In an absent-minded way we each reached for a chair to sit in. I guess we both knew that going through these letters was going to take the better part of the evening. Setting next to Alex, I watched him in silence has he tried to read the two letters from stack one. The minutes seemed like hours as I waited.

Then Alex broke his silence, "Near as I can tell, these two letters are from the same person, possibly a woman. Look at the handwriting, it's small and cursive—but each letter has the last page missing. I wonder if that was deliberate, a way of protecting the identity of the author?"

I nodded in agreement and asked, "Can you tell what the topics are about?"

"Afraid not, my Spanish just isn't good enough. I can make out something about a new marriage and what looks like a suggestion for having a marriage annulled. But no proper names are mentioned, only she, he and you. Looks to me like Sister Rosario will be our saving grace if we want these letters deciphered with any accuracy. Any idea how soon she'll be able to take a look at these?" Alex asked.

"Maybe tomorrow, at least I hope it will be that soon," I answered. "But, here," I reached over and picked up the last stack, "take a look at the newspaper page in this."

Alex opened the envelope and laid out the contents, picking up the newspaper page, he unfolded it before us. "Look at the header on top, says it is from Manizales, Colombia and it's dated the week of September eighth, 1888."

Together we scanned the full page, trying to make sense of a language neither one of us had much knowledge of. "This looks sorta like the society page, seems to be announcements of birthdays, anniversaries and engagements, parties and so on... and then there's this photo of a wedding party," I pointed to a grainy image at the bottom right that didn't have a caption. "Do you think the column to the left of it says something about it?"

"Hmm...let me see," Alex studied the slim report. "All I can make out are the phrases for nuptials, the previous Sunday and the various family names of Paez, Santillo and Pico! Shannon, this must be the connection!"

"I agree, seeing the name of Pico is just too much of a coincidence. I wonder what it all means... Do you suppose, this is another branch of the Pico family? Cousins, perhaps?"

"I wish I knew," Alex said as he turned his attention to me. "I'm getting hooked into this mystery more so than I ever thought I would. After all these years, I'm beginning to wonder about Aunt Dora's suspicions. Adding these letters to the oddities of what we found in the magician's chest, I can't help but to think that Aunt Dora might be right on target. And now, we have to wait for these documents to be interpreted and to get the DNA results on that old cargo bag."

Alex looked discouraged and it tugged at my heart. "Alex, I feel like we are on to something, real evidence, not just suspicions galvanized by family myth. Don't be discouraged, I'm confident we'll get answers real soon."

He shrugged, got up and reached down to pet a sleeping Atlas, "Come on big guy, time to wake up."

Atlas stood up, wagged his tail and put his head in my lap for an ear noogie rub. "Time to say good-night, Atlas," I said as I looked up at Alex.

Alex nodded and stretched. "Oh, I almost forgot. Tomorrow afternoon, at three, I'm giving a benefit sleight-of-hand performance at the youth group's club, it's for an excellent cause, so please come... you'll be my guest, of course."

"I'd love to. I'll need directions."

"Or, if you don't mind being early, you can ride with me. Alex suggested as he stood up. "How about if I pick you up at two?"

I looked up at him coyly and asked, "Is this a date?"

"Most certainly is," Alex replied as he bent over to pull back my chair. I accepted his gesture and in standing up to meet him face to face, Alex reached out, drew me to me him and kissed me! It was a surprise move so smooth and titillating that it took my breath away!

Our embrace was broken by a crashing sound in the front hall that alarmed Atlas and got him to growl. Alex quickly grabbed hold of Atlas' collar and ordered, "Steady boy."

And then the lights went out.

Chapter 11

Atlas stood between us, I put my hand on his back and I could feel the deep rumble of his growling. "Shannon," Alex whispered, "stay here while Atlas and I investigate."

"No way, I'm going with you," I whispered back.

Alex tried to lead the way, but Atlas intervened and took charge. He deliberately wedged his body ahead of us as we cautiously proceeded in the dark. There was just enough light streaming in from the window that we could see our way without bumping into furniture or each other. We inched our way through the darkness, every bit as riled as the dog for not knowing what was ahead. When we got to the doorway of the front hall, Alex stepped in front of his dog and motioned for me to grab a hold of his collar. We stood still as mice as Alex proceeded.

A few feet into the front hall we were out of range of the street light shining in through the parlor window—Alex was swallowed by the darkness. I couldn't see him.

"Okay," I heard him say in a clear voice. "You won't believe what happened, Shannon. But, we need a flashlight or some other lighting to get this mess fixed up. Evidently, the large coat tree mirror has fallen off the wall and pulled out some electrical cord in the process. That must have triggered the fuse switch to cut the power. I know where there's a flashlight in the kitchen, you stay here with Atlas, I'll be right back."

Alex passed by us, gave Atlas a pat on the head and told him to stay. He returned with a flashlight. "Hold this, please."

I pointed the light in the direction of the front door. Boy, was I surprised to see the heavy mirror lying face up on the hallway rug. The ornately carved oak frame had splintered in two along one side, but the mirror glass was intact.

"How could this have happened?" I wondered aloud.

"Weird, but I guess its hanger just gave out. Who knows how long it's been here? I remember it hanging here all my life and it looks like it was original to the house," Alex replied.

Alex turned the mirror over and I flashed the light over the back. "Look there, Alex. Something is sticking out from the broken side of the frame."

Alex saw it, too. The corner of an aged looking envelope was barely visible. He reached for the corner and carefully extracted the envelope. It was much larger that what it first appeared and except for looking old, it appeared unharmed. Alex handed it to me.

The electrical cord from the hall lamp that had been knocked over wasn't damaged, so Alex reconnected the lamp. "Now, let's get the lights back on. As I recall, the fuse switch box is in the closet under these stairs. Shine the light over there, please."

Within seconds all the lights were back on.

"Whew! I've had my share of excitement for one day, how about you?" I asked Alex.

With a grin, Alex replied, "Oh, I agree. I'll prop this mirror up here against the wall and tomorrow I'll ask Sister Rosario if she wants to have it repaired. But, how about that envelope?" Alex pointed to my hand.

I held it up and smiled... "No time like the present." And we walked back into the parlor.

I placed the envelope on the table in front of the other letters we had examined earlier. "Would you care to do the honors?" I requested.

Alex answered by picking up the envelope. First he held up to the light. Nothing was visible. At one end there was a flap that was folded in. Alex gently lifted the flap and peered inside. Carefully he let the contents slip out onto the table.

We stared at the single document that lay before us.

"This can't be!" exclaimed Alex.

"Alex, this is amazing. Imagine, Eric Blackthorne and Olivia were married! And this marriage certificate is proof. Don't you see," I pleaded, "we can research this and find the documentation. According to this, they were married right here in San Diego, that means that the city registrar will have a record of it."

"But, she was married to Pico. And in that time period, a divorce was unheard of, especially in a Catholic family. Do you really believe that Olivia would risk disgracing her family?" Alex asked.

"Maybe she didn't have to," I countered. "Remember, as far as we know, she and Pico didn't have children, maybe that gave her reason for an annulment. We need to gather together all the evidence we have collected so far. Also, remember the cape that was in Blackthorne's chest? Well... I remember there being a note inside of it, I guess I forgot to mention it to you. And, we should examine that old overcoat that was in the chest. I know I didn't check its pockets," I said.

"Yes, good idea. We need to consolidate all these things, get them in one place. After Sister Rosario looks at these letters and documents, I'll relocate all of it to my home. We can use my place has a central location. Is that alright with you?" Alex asked.

"Umm, Alex, least you forget, this mystery involves your family. However you want to manage this situation is fine by me," I offered.

"You're right of course, Shannon. Yet, I can't help but to think you play a crucial role in solving this mystery. And I'm not the only Blackthorne to think so. Remember, it was Aunt Dora who entrusted you with her secret bundle of letters. I think the three of us—you, Sister Rosario and myself—are keys to solving the puzzle regarding Eric Blackthorne's life and death. So, until you agree, or disagree, I suggest we both get a good night's sleep and look at the matter in the morning after we've had time to wrap our brains around it."

I couldn't argue with his logic. So we said good-night at the door. Alex gave me a quick kiss and the promise he'd call in the morning. I shut off the hallway light and headed up the stairs to get some sleep.

Chapter 12

I awoke the next morning to the sound of the telephone ringing in the front hall. Before I could get my brain to wake up and get down there to answer it, I heard Sister Rosario talking to the caller. It was Alex. I called down to Rosario that I was on my way. But she told me not to hurry. Alex specifically told her not to wake me. I padded down the stairs barefoot, tying my robe as I went. I found Rosario at the parlor table studying the bundles of letters and documents that Alex and I had left there last night.

"This is quite a treasure trove of information you've got here," Rosario said sweeping her hand in the air across the table.

"Yes, it is. And we need your help. But, before I get to that, what did Alex say?"

"He said he'll pick you up at two, as planned."

"That's all?" I asked.

"Rosario looked up at me with raised eyebrows and gave me a look of curiosity. "What else were you expecting him to say?" She asked.

"Oh, nothing really. I'll go get some coffee." I returned from the kitchen with a hot mug of coffee in hand and a buttermilk doughnut on a plate. "Yum...this is scrumptious, thanks for the breakfast. So, have you had much luck with all those Spanish language letters and stuff?"

"Oh, these are very interesting. Shannon, these letters and documents could very well be the break we need to crack this case!" Rosario said with excitement in her voice. "My only problem is that I need to be sure about my interpretation."

"But, you are incredibly fluent in Spanish, it's your native language, right?" I asked.

"Yes, it is. But you see, like all languages, Spanish has regional dialects and phrases. These letters are in Castillan Spanish, the purest form of the language. The Spanish we speak today in ordinary life is rarely this proper. I learned Castillan in college, but I haven't had much use for it since then," Rosario said.

"Uh, so are you saying you can't tell us what this stuff means?" I said.

"I can give you an accurate interpretation, but I'll need some time," Rosario explained. "This is far more complicated than reading to you a letter written in Spanish from one of my cousins in Mexico. It's crucial that this information be accurately translated into English, if not, misinterpretations could lead to erroneous conclusions. I'm going to go back to my office and pick up a few things, and then I'll come back and get started on this today. By the time you return from Alex's benefit performance, I should be done."

"Then after the performance, maybe we could all meet for dinner, here?" I suggested.

"Oh, Shannon, I won't have time to cook."

"Not to fret, that's what call-out delivery is for. How about if I order up some Chinese food for all of us, and have it delivered at six?" I suggested.

"Sounds delicious, dear," Rosario agreed.

I telephoned Alex to run the plan by him. He liked it but insisted he'd leave Atlas at home this time. From experience he knew that feeding Atlas Chinese food was begging for a disaster. The last—and only—time Atlas ate Chinese food, he had the terrible misfortune of pigging out on all the fortune cookies...including the paper fortunes! The giant wolfhound tummy ache that followed caused Atlas an overnight stay at his veterinarian's office.

I let Rosario know that our plan was set and then I left her alone to study. Upstairs I took a long and leisurely bubble bath and then went through my closet to choose what to wear. I decided on a simple tank dress of royal blue cut to just below my knees and then topped it with a slightly fitted blazer of dark blue and forest green tweed. I brushed my hair down and slipped a favorite pair of navy low-heeled pumps on. Checking my image in the mirror, I was satisfied.

Rosario was still at the parlor table when I came down stairs. "Do you think this is okay to wear to a magician's benefit performance?" I asked as I turned around in front of her.

"You look lovely, dear." I can't imagine anyone would think otherwise."

Right on cue, exactly at two, the doorbell chimed.

"That must be your prince charming," Rosario teased.

I tried not to look too excited as I opened the door, but it was impossible not to show my delight when I saw Alex dressed in his formal magician's attire.

"Oh, Alex... you are quite handsome in that outfit. Are you certain you wouldn't rather be a magician than a professor?" I chided.

He laughed and stepped into the parlor to greet Rosario.

"I'll miss you not being in the audience," he said to her. "But, I sure do appreciate the work you're doing with these documents. And Rosario, did you decide what you would like to do about that mirror?"

"I think we should have it repaired," Rosario said without hesitation. "It's been in this home for generations and it is a beautiful piece of furniture, don't you agree?"

"Certainly do," said Alex. "And I know just the right person to do the repairs. I'll call him later and make the arrangements."

"Thank you, Alex," Said Rosario. "Now you two be off, have an enjoyable time. I'll be here. Hopefully, I'll have some answers when you get back."

With Rosario's blessings, we closed the door and went on our way.

Chapter 13

On the drive to the community center Alex told me about its history. When his parents died in an auto accident several years ago, their estate passed to Alex and his sister, Susannah. Alex was given Blackthorne House and an inheritance. Susannah was given the family's manor house in Aberdeen, Scotland, and an inheritance. Alex, acting on the advice of his beloved Aunt Dora, decided Blackthorne House was more home that what he cared to live in, so he designated the church as trustee with the agreement they would use it as a financial adventure to benefit the local parish. Then he took a chunk of his inheritance and built The Andrew and Amelia Blackthorne Community Center Theatre.

As he explained, "Building and naming the community center in honor of my parents is one of the proudest accomplishments in my life. They both loved our community and were involved in many organizations. I know they'd approve. Not that my parents would object to what Susannah has done with her inheritance. She has done a superb job at restoring and preserving the manor house in Scotland. It's now the showcase it was generations ago and a very popular tourist attraction, too. And with that said, we are here."

The community center's architecture was what I thought it might be—an up-to-date interpretation of a Spanish Colonial adobe-red building. It was a generous two-story structure with arched windows and front doorway.

Even the alcove ticket window was set off by an arched roof-line. A Spanish red-tiled roof topped off the building. We walked through double glass doors into a large front lobby that echoed a décor appropriate to the Spanish exterior. Sunset hues colored the walls in muted fresco tones of beige and peach. The carpet and wood trim were in the darkest shade of peachy brown found in the accents of the frescoed walls. A few Craftsman-styled chairs were positioned here and there enhanced an ambience of comfort. Because we were the first ones to arrive, the reception desk was vacant.

"In about ten minutes the staff will be in," Alex said. "Patrons are greeted at this desk by a ticket-taker and then shown through those doors and down the hall to their seating."

We went through those doors. They led to the main hall that was also a display center. The eight-foot wide corridor exemplified Alex's passion for Art Deco. Walking on a carpet of heather blue, patrons could feast their eyes on twenty wall-mounted full-size performance posters advertising magicians from the 1880's. and early 1900's. The sleek black-framed displays were set off by stepped and rectangular designs in the silvery wallpaper and illuminated by ceiling mounted track lighting. At the end of the hall was a locked door, marked PRIVATE. Alex said it led upstairs to his office, a staff lounge and classroom.

"But for now, let me show you to your seat," Alex said.

We walked back over to the center of the main hall where Alex opened the auditorium doors.

The auditorium was eighty feet wide by sixty feet deep, excluding the stage, which was sixty by twenty-eight feet with a curtained opening of forty feet. Emergency exit doors flanked each side of the stage. The seats were authentic orchestra chairs. Each fullback seat rested on a pivot, allowing the patron to gently turn right or left without craning their neck.

Alex led me to front and center. "As my guest, of course you get the best seat in the house. I'm sorry to abandon you, but I must get ready. Is there anything I can get for you?" He asked.

"No thanks. I'll be fine. You go right ahead and disappear," I teased.

"I won't disappear for too long. I'm counting on you to be by my side immediately following the performance when I meet-and-greet our patrons out in the front lobby," Alex said.

"Oh, Alex, that sounds like fun!"

And with that, Alex gave me a wink and then disappeared behind the curtains on stage right.

Sitting there in the quiet theatre gave me a chance to get a feel for the place. It was impressive, to say the least. In looking around at the auditorium's walls I saw Alex's taste and preferences everywhere. The murals on the walls were artistically and expertly painted to represent historic San Diego. One side depicted a mission church and trade shops in a quaint neighborhood of small adobe homes. The opposite wall portrayed the city's busy and colorful wharf-side district of the 1880's. And from the domed ceiling above, nine Victorian-styled candelabra chandeliers lighted the room with sparkling brilliance. Then the quite was broken, the main doors opened and patrons streamed in.

After a few minutes I looked over my shoulder and saw that not a seat was vacant. Just as Alex had promised, the audience was family friendly. Nearly all ages, except for very young children, were in attendance. The lights dimmed and a hush fell over the audience. The shimmering midnight blue satin stage curtains drew back and Alex walked casually out on stage. Under a solo spotlight he welcomed us to his performance. Then he turned to his left and asked his assistants to come on stage. Five teenagers, two girls and three boys, walked out and lined up beside Alex. As he introduced them they bowed and one by one left the stage. Next, one of the assistants, the boy named Scott, walked out with a small card table. He set it in front of Alex and left.

Alex looked at the table with an exaggerated frown and commented in a loud whisper..."Umm, was something forgotten?" Immediately (and obviously right on cue), the girl named Sandy tiptoed in a mock hurry on to the stage and placed a very thin briefcase on top of the table. While Alex pretended to scold her with a wagging finger, he deftly opened the briefcase and produced a fully inflated soccer ball!

The audience was stunned! And that was just the opening trick. For the next hour Alex performed illusions of magic. Many tricks involved volunteers from the audience who left the stage baffled wondering how watches disappeared from their wrists, golden rings seared through rope, playing cards vanished into thin air and were then found in their pocket or purse. Borrowed neck ties and scarves took on lives of their own and floated in mid air. I looked around at the audience reactions to discover young and old alike were enchanted, enthralled! I couldn't imagine how Alex would end the show with a trick that would out perform what he'd done so far. Turns out—he did.

The curtains began to slowly close and Alex edged backward, the audience clapped and shouted, "ENCORE, ENCORE!" This was the reaction Alex planned on. He stepped forward, the curtains came to a halt and the audience was silent.

"To close tonight's performance will require the assistance of the youngest member of this audience," Alex announced.

That comment caused great interaction with the audience. Hands sprang up and Alex called on them one by one to determine who the youngest patron was. In the end, it turned out to be a seven-year-old girl named Sophia. Sophia's father walked with her up and onto the stage. She didn't want to stay without him, so he stood just a few feet off to her side.

Alex bent down on one knee and asked Sophia her name and age. She responded with an excited voice and asked the same question of Alex. This candid exchange was priceless—it engaged the entire audience with laughter. Next, Alex asked Sophia to hold a sheet of white paper. She took the paper and held it out for everyone to see. He then asked her if she liked dogs and cats. She said yes, but she liked kitties better. Then he asked Sophia for the paper. She handed it to him and he folded the paper into an oragami cat. Sophia's surprise was delightful, but what happened next amazed everyone.

Alex told Sophia to hold out her hand. She did and he placed the paper cat in her open palm. He told her to close her eyes and count to three. When she opened her eyes the paper cat was dancing in the air above Sophia's hand. Sophia burst into giggles. Alex snatched the cat, placed his hands behind his back and asked Sophia to pick a hand. She chose his right hand. He held out his right hand and in it were two paper cats. Sophia left the stage with her arms outstretched, holding her prizes up for everyone to see. As all eyes were watching Sophia. No patron noticed that Alex had disappeared and the stage curtains were closed.

The auditorium lights brightened and ushers came out to direct people out of the auditorium. An usher quickly spirited me back stage and through a maze of hallways. Suddenly, we turned a corner and there was Alex!

"Ready to meet-and-greet with me?" He asked.

I nodded with a smile and right before us a door opened. We stepped out into the front lobby where patrons were just entering. They spied Alex and rushed up to ask him to sign their programs. I started to step back, but Alex reached down and took my hand, "Stay close," he whispered. So I did.

Thirty minutes flew by and all but one patron had departed and the staff was leaving, too. The patron, a well-dressed man of about sixty-something, walking with a cane, approached Alex. He was medium height, tan complexion and had a full head of immaculately groomed white hair.

"Mr. Blackthorne, would you be kind enough to sign these two programs?" he asked in a clear unwavering voice that defied any hint of age.

"Why, it's my pleasure, sir." Alex reached out his hand. With a flourish he signed the first program and handed it back. Then looking down at the second program, he looked up with puzzlement.

"May I ask, where did this program come from?" Alex queried.

The man answered with a gleam in his eye, "I thought that program might grab your attention. It has been in my family for generations. My name is Francisco Zavala. That program belonged to my great-great grandfather, Octavio Zavala, he received it from his daughter, Olivia Zavala, the wife of Eric Blackthorne, the magician. Your ancestor, I believe."

By now the place was empty, which was a good thing, because Alex nearly fainted from the surprise of this development. He regained his composure and suggested we have a seat, I moved three chairs closer to us.

Once seated, Alex examined the program. No doubt about it being authentic, that wasn't the WOW factor. This program was from one of Eric Blackthorne's performances in Scotland and it was dated April first, 1889. On the back was a handwritten message scripted in small cursive writing that said, Dear Papa, all is well, as you can see from this leaflet, my husband is enjoying great success. Much love and many blessings, Olivia. Just below this was written... Please, Papa, be happy for me!

Chapter 14

I thought for certain that we would catch Sister Rosario by surprise when we returned to Blackthorne House accompanied by Mr. Zavala as our guest. As it turns out... Rosario surprised us!

"Why, Detective Zavala! It's been years since I last saw you. You're looking well," Rosario said with great delight as she took his hand in welcome.

"Thank you, thank you," Zavala said with sincerity. "It's my pleasure to be here. Alex and Shannon were kind to invite me on a moment's notice. When they told me about the investigation, I couldn't resist."

"Well..." I said, "I had no idea you two knew each other or that you are a detective."

"Detective Zavala," Rosario was quick to explain, "was in the news not too long ago, just before he retired. He is responsible for solving a string of art robberies that took place over several years. That's correct, isn't?" She glanced at Zavala.

"Yes, although to hear you talk, one would think I cracked the case entirely on my own. We have a top-notch team of investigators on force here," Zavala said with pride.

"Too be sure, among San Diego's finest," Rosario said. "But you, detective were the leading force. Now, enough of this. Let's all have some dinner, then we can put our heads together and solve the mystery of Eric and Olivia Blackthorne." Rosario ushered us into the formal dining room where she had laid out the Chinese food. With barely a notice, she set an additional table service for our guest.

I took a chair next to Zavala and leaned over to whisper, "Imagine our luck. Not only are you a shirttail relation to Blackthorne, but a detective whose expertise has passed muster with Sister Rosario!"

Dinner conversation was punctuated with easy banter dominated by Rosario prompting Zavala through a narrative of his last case. By the end of dinner it was obvious that Rosario held Detective Zavala in high esteem, and in turn he had great admiration for her work on the restoration of Blackthorne House. By the time we all pitched in to clear the dishes, we agreed to drop titles and use first names. I have to admit—I was secretly thrilled to have a detective of Francisco's integrity helping us out.

We gathered around the parlor table to examine the letters, the marriage certificate found in the back of the mirror and the note that was found in the cape. Rosario reported on what she found out.

"First, the marriage certificate between Eric Blackthorne and Olivia Zavala is authentic. I checked in parish records and their marriage was recorded on October twenty-fifth, 1888.

"Second, also in parish records is a statement that an annulment in the marriage of Olivia Pico and Miguel Pico was granted on October fifteenth, 1888, on behalf of Olivia Pico.

"Thirdly, the reason for annulment is stated as bigamy on the part of Miguel Pico, citing evidence of his marriage to Carmelita Paez of Manizales, Colombia on September sixth, 1888. Herbert Dodd, employee of the Pinkerton Detective Agency, provided the documentation for proof of evidence.

"Last of all, the newspaper article, the one showing a photo of a wedding party...that is Miguel Pico, his bride Carmelita and her family. I imagine this newspaper article was part of the evidence Dodd provided. The other letters are reports from Dodd, whom by the way, scripted them in impeccable Spanish. And the remaining two letters, the ones that are missing signature pages...well, I don't know the author of them. But, I think Olivia wrote them."

"Why would Olivia have written them?" Francisco asked.

"See for yourself," Rosario handed the letters to him, "I'd liked your opinion."

Francisco took the letters, turning them over in his hand he scrutinized them, front and back. In silenced-filled anticipation we waited as he read the letters in complete quiet.

Francisco looked up and turned to Alex and asked, "Please hand me that program from 1889?"

"Here," Alex handed him the program. "And here's a note we found in Eric's cape that was in his magician's chest."

Again, we waited in silence as the detective examined the evidence.

After several minutes, Francisco positioned the letters, program and note on the table. With clasped hands he leaned forward on the table, looked at us and explained, "I could be mistaken. However, I believe Olivia wrote the program and letters. But, this note..." He tapped the note with his right hand "...something about it is peculiar. In my opinion, it is a masterful forgery of her handwriting."

We were too stunned to say anything. So, Francisco filled in the blank stares projected from our faces.

"These letters express a hesitancy to continue with the investigation, hinting at a fear of violent retaliation from Miguel. It seems perfectly natural for Olivia to feel afraid of the outcome and Miguel's reaction. One must remember that in the era she lived, it would have brought disgrace and possible misfortune to her, and her family, if the investigation turned out to be in Miguel's favor. Also, she may have feared what Miguel was capable of doing to her, her family or even Eric, regardless of his guilt of innocence."

Francisco continued, "Counterbalancing Olivia's letters are the ones from Dodd. He is quite sure of his assessment of the situation and he urges Olivia not to give up and he says if what he suspects is true and he can provide documentation, he will initiate communication with the parish administrators on her behalf." Francisco looked up from the letters to gauge our reaction.

"Astounding, absolutely astounding, never would I have guessed this course of events!" Alex exclaimed.

"But," I interjected, "this doesn't explain what happened to them, and what about that note that we found in the cape?"

"Yes, the note... Now another mystery needs to be solved," Francisco said. "Who wrote that note, and why?"

Then Rosario said, "And, there's this ship's manifest document, I can't help but wonder what it has to do with all this. Also, let's not forget that we don't know what happened to Eric and Olivia. According to San Diego newspapers from that time period, Olivia and Miguel went to their ranch shortly after Miguel supposedly discovered Olivia in the arms of Eric. And what of Eric? According to the marriage certificate, he and Olivia were in San Diego that October twenty-fifth of 1888, but nothing appears in local newspapers, no mention whatsoever about their marriage, a honeymoon or leaving the area?"

"Evidently," Alex added, "Eric and Olivia went to Scotland, at least according to this performance program from there. So it seems they were married here, and within six months were in Scotland."

"My guess is that they both died in Scotland and are buried there," Rosario suggested.

"NO! That can't be," I said with such adamancy that I garnered the stares of everyone. "Look, I can't explain it, but deep down I know Miguel Pico is responsible for some ill-fated action against Eric or Olivia, or both of them. Miguel was hell-bent on getting revenge, and somehow that note from the cape is a clue."

Until now, Francisco seemed content to allow the three of us to vent our opinions. But as soon as I mentioned the word 'clue' he put his hand up and interrupted, "Shannon, I can't agree or disagree with your reasoning for believing what you do, because you seem to have very deep feelings about this case. However, I firmly support your hunch that this note, this bit of forgery is a telltale key to answering all the concerns posed tonight. We have much more investigating to do."

"Yes, I agree," said Alex. "But what do we do now?" Alex, Rosario and Francisco turned their attention toward me.

"Well... we need a plan, some kind of schedule of logical steps to take next," I offered and looked Francisco.

"Francisco," Alex said, "if you were working this mystery as a case, what steps would you take next?"

"Ah... Let's see," He said thoughtfully. "I think a good night's sleep would allow me to approach these concerns more clearly. Therefore, I suggest the four of us meet again soon. And in the meantime we each make a list of resources and undertake individual projects of research."

We agreed to meet in three days. In the meantime, Alex would call his friend in Galveston in hope of getting results on the DNA test from the soiled cargo bag. And he'd check with his colleague at the university about the chemical analysis on the black gritty dust found in the chest. Francisco wanted to take the 'forged' note to a handwriting analyst friend of his and then investigate the ship's manifest document, which so far didn't seem to be a clue worth following. Rosario wanted to do more delving into parish records. I vowed I would tackle the local newspaper archives in hope of discovering a clue overlooked in Rosario's cursory search.

Chapter 15

I woke the next morning, Sunday, with a buzzing headache and the need for some quiet time and fresh air. Hoping a steamy shower would wash away my headache I hopped into the stall and let the water rain over me. The pain melted away just as the hot water ran out, stinging cold drops brought me back to reality. I stepped out of the shower and into the foggy bathroom. I grabbed a towel, wrapped my hair, grabbed another towel, dried off quickly and slipped into my robe. Using a wash cloth I wiped the cloud of steam off the bathroom mirror, but as quickly as I wiped, it reappeared. I swiped the cloth across the mirror again... And again, it fogged up. Maybe all this steam needs to vent; I cracked open the window over the laundry hamper. And when I turned around—

The mirror was perfectly clear and shiny except for a message written in steam: FOLLOW YOUR HEART.

My heart pounded, I grabbed the bathroom door—it was still locked—and dashed out into the hall shouting for Rosario. No answer. I was every bit alone at this moment as when I said good-bye to Rosario, Alex and Francisco late last night. I hurried down the stairs and ran from room to room checking doors and windows. All were secure. It was obvious that no person had entered or left since last night. But what about a ghost?

I put the experience behind me as best I could, and when I dared to go back into the bathroom, the steam and the spectral message had vanished.

I dressed quickly and left, making darn sure to leave the house locked up tight. Sitting in the safety of my car and looking up at the house, I felt really silly. It was a beautiful home, no shadows lurking about, and the weather was pleasantly mild and the sun was shining... what more could anyone ask for on a Sunday? Looking at my watch I knew I had time to make it to the early mass service at Rosario's church.

I can't even begin to explain how I got lost. Alex had cautioned me about roadwork going on in the neighborhood and true to his advice I followed all the detour signs. Soon, I found myself combing through the neighborhoods of Old Town San Diego on a road that ended in front of an ancient looking church. The church's bells were calling out an invitation. I accepted.

I came away from the service centered and refreshed. As I was leaving a woman came up to me and asked if I would like to join the parishioners for refreshments in the garden behind the church. I hesitated, and I meant to decline, but something from within told me to accept. Smiling, I nodded and thanked her for the invitation.

The garden was beautifully appointed with rose bushes, a few chairs were occupied, mostly though, people stood.

"Are you a tourist?" a man asked. He was about my age, maybe older, and quite handsome with and open face, hazel eyes and side-parted brown hair, which he absently brushed away from his eyes.

"Visiting," I answered. "I'm here because of a work assignment at Blackthorne House mansion."

"Now that's a place with a history!" He remarked. "I'm in the architectural restoration business. My firm made a bid on that project, but we didn't get it. By the way, I'm Zach Zavala."

My mind scrambled—"Are you related to Detective Francisco Zavala?"

"You mean grandpa?" Zach said.

We broke into laughter. Zach ushered me over to a couple of chairs. I took a seat and introduced myself.

Zach smiled and said "Before we get too caught up talking about my grandpa, I need a refill on my coffee, can I get you anything?" In minutes he returned with two cups of coffee and cookies.

"You gotta try these cookies, my sister makes them from scratch for Sunday after church get-together," Zack handed a cookie-filled napkin to me.

I took a bite. Gooey dark chocolate morsels gave way to delicate coconut sweetened with an almond crunch. "These cookies are scrumptious, what's the recipe called?"

"Would you believe, Sunday-after-church-cookies? I think my sis would rather impress people with the flavor of the cookies than wow them with a recipe title."

"I don't blame her," I said, "if I could bake this good, I would subscribe to that same strategy. But one cookie is one cookie too many for me. As good as these are, I have every intention of eating sensibly today."

"Maybe I can help in your effort. I know a great Italian café in the Little Italy neighborhood... May I take you to lunch?"

We each drove our own car. I followed Zach closely over the few miles of surface streets to the restaurant. And true to his word, it was great Italian café. The food and service were the best I had experienced anywhere. Afterward we browsed the neighborhood's many antique stores. Zach's company made me feel at home, we shared a sense of humor and some sparks of attraction, too. He was like so many of the guys I had grown up with: he had that boy-next-door charm and was a perfect gentleman at the same time. The time spent with him was perfect, I hated for it to end, but I knew I needed to get back home and turn my attention to the mystery at hand. Before we went our separate ways, Zach made me promise to give him a call first thing in the morning so he could arrange with a friend at the newspaper archives to help me in my research.

Chapter 16

I struck gold at the newspaper archives. Thanks to the assistance of Zach's friend Carrie Browne I found evidence that a few days after their marriage, Olivia and Eric Blackthorne had booked passage on a ship departing from San Diego. I also discovered a small news article that mentioned a Captain Santillo being hired by Miguel Pico... Could this be a connection to the same Santillo in the wedding article from the Manizales newspaper page? I knew it was a long shot, but I had to give a try. Following Carrie's excellent advice, I set out on a short drive to Coronado Island to talk with Jacob Gates, an professional historian on the subject of sea-going merchant trade history for the local area.

In my telephone call to Jacob, he gave me directions to a museum meeting hall. I drove into the museum's small parking lot as Jacob was walking up to the front of the building. He looked exactly as Carrie had described him: about fifty, short stature, well muscled, nearly bald, and he walked with a swagger. Carrie said he was a bulldog of a man with the heart of a teddy bear.

"Shannon," he said as he waved me over and unlocked the museum's door. "Excuse the dust and disarray, we've been doing some rearranging and sprucing up of the place."

I followed Jacob through a general reception room into a small office, cluttered with file cabinets and bookcases. From a corner he pulled up a well worn, but comfy looking captains chair for me and then sat behind an old heavily scarred oak desk that looked as if it had been salvaged from a shipwreck.

Jacob rifled through some papers on his desk and then looked me straight in the face. "When it comes to questions such as yours, I'm like a dog with a bone, like a bloodhound on a scent trail, like a greyhound after prey. I thought about your question on the drive over and I'm sure we've got the answers you're looking for—right here." He punctuated his claim by hitting his right fist on the desk top as if to proclaim Eureka!

"—Just one moment, " Jacob got up and stepped four feet to his left to some beaten up metal file cabinets and opened the bottom drawer. He let his fingers do the walking across the dozens of jammed together files before grabbing several and holding them up like a prized catch, "This should do the trick," he thumbed through the documents.

"Here it is," He said with great conviction. "A harbor master's report for October, 1888, stating that Captain Miguel Pico designated Captain Raul Santillo as commander of Miguel Pico's ship, the La Jolla. The document is witnessed by Whitley J. Cavendish, Harbor Master, San Diego." Jacob handed the document to me.

"Let's see," he continued to thumb through the documents. "Here's more paperwork of interest to you, some cargo lists from that year and into 1889 for the La Jolla." He handed those to me, too.

"I can't thank you enough, and now I have to ask another favor... I need to get photocopies of—"

"—Sure, sure, sure. We can do that right now, follow me," Jacob got up and led me into a small alcove that served as a makeshift kitchen and copier room. "May I?" he asked... pointing to the documents I held in my hands. One by one he made meticulous copies of them, then with a flourish he reached to a shelf above the copier, grabbed an empty report cover, put the copies inside and handed it to me.

"Thank you, thank you, so very much," I said.

Jacob blushed and in a clumsy attempt of gruffness, down-played his contribution to my research, "Ah, ain't nothin'. You need more help, now you know who to call."

By the time I got home to Blackthorne House, I thought for sure I would have a note or phone message waiting for me from at least one of my three cohorts. And I wasn't disappointed. Rosario had come and left. Her message said she was making progress. Also, that Alex had tried to call my cell phone but he couldn't get through, so he left a message with her that he caught an early flight to Galveston and wouldn't be in contact until he returned for our meeting tomorrow. On the house phone message machine I found a call from Francisco, but all he had to say was that he was looking forward to tomorrow's meeting. I had the evening to myself and I knew exactly what to do with it: study the evidence I had gathered.

Chapter 17

At Francisco's suggestion we all agreed to his offer to provide Mexican food for dinner. As I walked down the stairs to go into the dining room, my nose told me Francisco had arrived. He and Rosario were setting the table. Alex was no where to be seen.

"Hi. That food smells delicious. I hope this wasn't too much trouble for you," I said as I took a seat.

"Not at all," Francisco said has he handed me a plate filled with rice, beans, enchiladas and a tamale. "It's my pleasure to contribute. And I know you'll enjoy this small feast."

I accepted the plate with a smile. I relished the first bite and swallowed. My stomach grumbled its thanks, which made me wonder why Alex was missing out on this feast. "Where's Alex?" I asked.

Rosario answered, "Oh, he called, said he'll be late and not to hold dinner. There's some kind of traffic tie-up. My guess is it's because of all the roadwork detours that's been going on for last few days."

"Sometimes, good surprises can come from roadwork detours," Francisco looked at me and smiled. "I understand that it is because of the current detours that my grandson Zachary had the pleasure of meeting Shannon."

Boy, did that comment spark Rosario's attention. She looked up from her plate with a forkful of tamale hanging in midair. "Sooo, Shannon, you met another member of the Zavala family?" She questioned with a bright look in her eyes and a smile on her face.

"As a matter of fact, I did. I went to Sunday service at a quaint church in Old Town. I happened upon it in a feeble attempt to follow detour signs to get to your church," I said looking at Rosario... "But instead I ended up lost in the tangle of streets in Old Town. So I pulled over to the curb and unwittingly stopped right in front of this church. The church's bells were ringing, so I went in. It was after the service in the reception garden that I met Zach. That was a lucky break—" I continued to explain, hoping to ward off Rosario's motherly instinct, "—because Zach referred me to a friend of his at the newspaper archives. Very helpful, but I'll tell you more about what I discovered later... Alex should be here soon," I offered as a strategy to divert Rosario's attention away from me.

No sooner said than done. The doorbell chimed and Rosario sprang from her chair to let Alex in.

"Hi all, sorry for being late," Alex said has he hurriedly grabbed a plate and began helping himself. "Hmmm... this smells wonderful. Boy, am I hungry."

Once Alex arrived we began to take our food seriously. We were of like mind, get dinner over with and down to business. I helped Rosario clear the table while Alex and Francisco made small talk.

Each of us brought folders to the table, except for Alex. That surprised me. I sat across from Alex with Francisco to my right and Rosario to my left.

"Alex, would you care to start?" I asked.

"My trip to Galveston was unnecessary. Turns out, that the stains on the old cargo bag are nothing more than fish blood. My friend ran tests on every inch of that bag and no human DNA is on it," he revealed with grimness. "As for the black dust from the bottom of the chest, well... it's coffee," Alex shrugged with obvious disappointment.

"Coffee?" Francisco commented in a thoughtful tone. "Yes... coffee dust, or grounds, makes perfect sense."

"It does?" Rosario questioned.

"Considering that Captain Miguel Pico committed bigamy to marry Carmelita Paez, daughter to one of the wealthiest coffee plantation owners in South America—Yes, finding coffee dust is logical. Pico was making a good profit from importing coffee to this country. My best guess is that he schemed to marry Carmelita in order to get closer to her family's fortune. Remember the old saying: money doesn't grow on trees? Well, from Pico's point of view, money was growing on the trees of Paez's coffee plantation," Francisco explained.

Our eyes locked onto the detective.

"Please continue," Alex asked him.

Francisco reached into his folder and withdrew the note found in Blackthorne's cape. "This note is most definitely a forgery of Olivia's handwriting. However, her handwriting does appear on this note," Francisco said with such relish, we knew he must be playing cat and mouse with us.

Then, he unfolded the note and held it up for us to see.

"I'm not getting it," I admitted, looking at Rosario for confirmation. She looked just as puzzled.

"I know," said Alex. He winked at me, then at Rosario and asked of Francisco, "Please do us the honor of holding the note up to that light," he pointed to the lamp above the table.

Before our eyes a handwritten message appeared: Hurry, this time, please!

"How?" I asked.

"Invisible ink. Probably from lemon juice," Francisco explained. "And this secret message is definitely Olivia's writing, it matches perfectly with the confirmed samples we have from her letters and the performance program from Scotland."

"It seems obscure, yet desperate. I wonder what it means?" Rosario commented.

"It's in code. Right detective?" Alex looked at Francisco. Francisco nodded agreement.

"Alex," I said. "Could Olivia have learned some kind of code from Eric?

"Sure, we—magicians, that is—use secret code frequently, especially with our assistants. And, in the spiritualist movement of the late 1800's, it was very popular for a magician to perform mind-reading stunts as part of a performance. In order to be successful at it, the magician had to have a code with his assistant who worked the audience. The assistant would ask the blindfolded magician to identify an article, such as a wallet or watch fob, submitted from an audience member. The assistant would ask the magician to identify the article by using vocabulary words that the magician recognized as clues to the name of the article because each word or particular phrase represented a letter of the alphabet."

"So, do you think Eric taught Olivia this kind of code?" I asked.

"I don't see why not," Alex offered. "It's the perfect way to secretly communicate. When I was little, Aunt Dora and I used a secret code. I used juice from the lemons off the trees in the backyard here to write secret messages. Most kids learn about it in grammar school science.

Open up a lemon, use a twig or cotton swab, dip it into the lemon's juice and write a message on paper. Then hold the paper up to the light, and the message is visible on what appeared to be blank paper."

"But, what does hurry, this time, please mean?" Rosario said and looked at Alex for an answer.

"That—I don't know. But Aunt Dora might. I'm afraid it's too late to call her now. But I'll call her first thing in the morning."

"Let's continue," suggested Francisco. "What I've told you is the extent of what I found out. Unfortunately the ship's manifest document doesn't offer additional information, at least any that makes sense at this stage of investigation. Rosario, do you have anything to add?"

"The plot thickens." Rosario said with raised highbrows. "According to parish records, Miguel Pico died of natural causes—albeit unnamed causes—on November third, 1888. All services for a funeral, including a mortician, were refused. The only other comment is that Pico's body was to be shipped in a coffin to his wife Carmelita at her address in Manizales, Colombia. Captain Santillo signed these orders."

We were stunned!

"That sorta goes along with what I found out," I broke the silence. "On the third week in October of that year, San Diego Harbor Master Whitley J. Cavendish witnessed a transfer of command from Captain Miguel Pico to Captain Raul Santillo for Pico's ship the La Jolla. I also found a report from the newspaper of that same week. It confirms these facts.

"And... I found something else interesting in the newspapers. On October twenty-seventh, same year, Eric and Olivia Blackthorne are listed on the society page as having booked passage on the Pacific Star, departing San Diego for San Francisco. Also, I have copies of all sorts of cargo lists from ships departing and entering San Diego from July 1888 to July 1889. I did a quick reading of the lists, but didn't see anything of interest."

"No caskets or coffins listed as cargo?" Alex asked.

"Well, I wasn't looking for that!"

"I suggest we divide those lists and scour them, right now," Rosario insisted.

"Got more coffee?" Francisco asked.

"I'll put another pot on," Rosario got up and went into the kitchen.

Chapter 18

"I'm bushed!" Alex complained as he tossed his stack of cargo lists on the table. "I've gone over these until I'm cross-eyed, and there's nothing here that even hints at cargo in the shape of a coffin. Anyone else having luck?"

With that admission, Rosario, Francisco and I gratefully tossed our stacks onto the table.

Francisco broke the exhausted silence, "I suspect Pico's death was faked. Make no mistake, Captain Miguel Pico did board a ship—probably his ship La Jolla captained by Santillo—and he sailed off to Manizales."

Rosario nodded in agreement, "It does seem very much out of character with the time period and Pico's culture, including religion, to refuse funeral services. Of course, if he were actually alive, then it would be impossible to fake a funeral, after all his body would have to have been examined by an undertaker, or at the very least, the local priest."

"Yet, another conundrum...what do we do next?" I looked to Alex. Alex looked to Francisco.

"I think I need a vacation, somewhere in the sun with tropical breezes cooling the air. Some place where I can get a good cup of coffee at any hour of the day," Francisco beamed.

Rosario couldn't contain her thoughts—"Francisco, you can't go to all the trouble of going to Manizales!

"Certainly, I can. And I will. I will contact my travel agent tomorrow," Francisco stated as he got up and pushed his chair in. "It is late, we need to talk tomorrow, after I have my vacation plans set. Also, Alex, I would very much appreciate seeing this magician's chest of your ancestor's. May we meet at your home tomorrow, perhaps in the early evening after dinner?"

"Uh...sure, I don't see why not. About seven thirty... is that okay?"

Rosario and I gave a weary nod and began to stack all the documents together; we left them on the table and walked out to the curb with Francisco and Alex.

"Rosario, where's your car?" I asked.

"Oh, I rode over with Francisco."

Alex and I saw the two of them off and then we walked hand-in-hand to his car.

Chapter 19

I spent the next morning and afternoon working on what I was hired to do—writing the brochure for the Blackthorne House Bed and Breakfast. By four-o'clock I was feeling good about the project and was putting some final edits into the manuscript. The rough draft looked fantastic! I knew Rosario would be pleased with the final product. Of course, the posters and photos that Alex made available were the icing on the cake, they really lent an air of excitement to the description of Blackthorne House. Pleased with the progress, I put the draft away in my portfolio and padded down the stairs to scrounge a dinner from leftovers. I'd never had leftover tamales, but I was willing to give them a try. But, then I got an offer too good to refuse when I answered the unexpected chime at the door, "Well, hello Zach, what brings you here?"

"Actually, I was in the neighborhood, saw your car in the drive and thought I'd stop in. Is this okay, I'm not interrupting your work, I hope?"

"Not at all. I just finished for the day and was going to rummage through leftovers from the dinner your grandfather provided last night. Want to join me?"

"I have a better idea. How about some Italian food, same place as before, same offer?"

I grabbed my purse from the foyer closet and said, "Let's go, I'm starving!"

On the way over to the café I told Zach about the latest developments in the case. He was every bit as interested in the mystery as Francisco was. In fact, he related to me what he knew about Francisco's travel plans to Manizales.

"So, you're okay with your grandfather going there?"

"Sure, he can take care of himself. Underneath that boyish charm of his, he's very savvy. He speaks the language, has phenomenal experience and success at solving mysteries... and he really does love a good cup of coffee," Zach added with a smile. "And besides, I made him promise to call me at least once a day."

"Thank you. I've grown rather fond of your grandfather, I think Rosario has, too."

"Yes, he does have the puppy-dog effect on women," Zach conceded. "I hear there's a meeting at Alex's tonight, any chance I might tag along?"

"Sure, I can't imagine anyone would object. After all, Olivia Blackthorne is your ancestor, too."

"Then, after dinner, do you have time for another stroll along the boardwalk at Seaport Village, maybe grab dessert, then head on over to Alex's?"

I gave him my most profound look of curiosity, which in my case involved trying to squint my eyes and raise my brows at the same time, "Hmm, sounds to me as if you have an agenda, Mr. Zavala!"

He leaned over and whispered... "I do."

Chapter 20

When we knocked on Alex's front door, Rosario answered and she wasn't alone. Atlas didn't give her a chance to invite us in without a once over with his nose.

"Hey, big guy, remember me?" The wag of his tail told me he did, but he wasn't too sure about Zach. "Zach, this is Alex's dog, Atlas." As soon as the pooch heard his name, he sat and put a front paw out to shake.

"Hey, he's a lefty, just like me," remarked Zach as he shook Atlas's paw. "Mighty glad to be your friend, I sure wouldn't want to be your enemy!"

Rosario smiled at Zach, "Francisco said you had expressed an interest in being here tonight, I'm glad you came. Alex and Francisco are in the living room." Rosario turned to lead us, but it was Atlas who led the way into the living room.

Francisco was on both knees examining the magician's chest; he was totally absorbed in his study. Alex was sitting close by, watching him. Alex looked up, saw the three of us standing at the entry to the room and motioned us over. For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw Alex's eyes flicker from me to Zach and back again to me. But when I turned to look directly at Alex, he had returned his attention to Francisco. Atlas quietly slipped in behind Alex's chair and laid down.

"Alex," Francisco said, "let's turn this chest over, I'd like to look at the bottom."

Alex and Francisco each took hold of the chest's sides and gingerly rolled it over so the bottom was facing us. Francisco retrieved a small flashlight from his jacket pocket and ran the beam in a crosshatch pattern over the surface. "Look here," Francisco pointed to a dark area near the back, "right there, the grain in the wood panel is much darker than elsewhere."

Alex ran his finger over the spot. "Feels different, too. Slightly raised and it's very uniform, almost like a stripe. Maybe a repair?"

Francisco shook his head in disagreement and turned around to us. "Do either of you ladies have a metal fingernail file?"

My purse was still hanging from my shoulder; I reached into it and pulled out a file "Yes, here's one." Rosario, Zach and I took a seat on the sofa; it afforded a front and center view.

Francisco asked Alex to hold the flashlight while he fiddled with the dark section on the bottom of the chest. Alex had a good view of what Francisco was doing, but to the rest of us it looked like he was trying to pick a lock where there was none. Then we heard a click, like the turning of a lock. And before anyone could have uttered abracadabra a wide panel from the bottom flipped up, leaving a fist-size opening.

"A false bottom and a secret compartment!" Alex said with a tone of surprise. "Why didn't I think to look for that? I know it's common practice to have these sorts of props made for special illusions, it just never occurred to me that this was that kind of chest. I thought it was used for storage."

"Anything in there?" I asked

"One moment," Francisco said as his hand disappeared into the compartment. "Yes, I have something!"

He pulled out a cord-drawn black velvet bag, a little larger than a woman's evening bag. "Could this be a magician's prop, too?"

"Huh-uh, at least nothing like I've ever seen," Alex answered as he grabbed a silver tray from the table beside him. "Let's empty the contents onto here." He set the tray on the carpet in front of the chest.

Francisco carefully let the contents fall onto the tray. I'll never forget the light tinkling sound the shimmering green stones made as they tumbled out of the bag onto the tray's metal surface.

"Emeralds!" Zach exclaimed.

"We can't be sure," cautioned Francisco, "but I strongly suspect that you're right about that. And it makes perfect sense because in addition to exporting coffee, Colombia is renowned for mining the finest quality emeralds in the world."

"Even in the 1800s?" I asked.

"For centuries," Francisco answered. "Spanish conquistadors first discovered Colombian emerald mines in the mid-1500s. They overpowered the indigenous people and took over the ownership of the mines. And they did so by using the slave labor of the Colombian people. Over the centuries, the emerald mines have been in different ownership, but one thing has never changed...the superiority of Colombian emeralds is unsurpassed, even today, this is true."

"And where there is money to be made from precious gem stones, there is smuggling, right Grandpa?"

Francisco looked up at Zach and nodded in agreement.

"Francisco," Rosario asked, "because there are so many emeralds, do you think they were smuggled?"

He looked down at the glowing display of stones, counted them and held a few up to the light.

"I count thirty-eight stones, sizes vary from green pea to olive, and the clarity is superb. By any standard of living, including today, these emeralds represent a fortune, tens of thousands of dollars. Smuggled? Yes, I suspect so, why else would these be hidden." Francisco concluded as he picked up the velvet bag and looked inside. "Wait, there's something else in here." He opened the bag, turned it upside down. A slip of folded paper fell out.

Alex grabbed the paper and unfolded it. "It's a note." He got up and took the note over to a table lamp and held it up. "Another invisible ink message. But it's not in code. It says, "When you find this, you will know that I failed. These emeralds are the evidence. My love, for eternity, O."

"Olivia! Olivia wrote that note!" Zach said with palatable excitement. "It must have to do with proving a case against Miguel Pico." He turned to Francisco, "Grandpa, don't you agree?"

Francisco held up his right hand, as if to curb his grandson's enthusiasm, "Let's not jump to conclusions. It would seem that these emeralds are incriminating evidence, but for what, we do not know. We have yet... another mystery."

We all nodded in agreement.

"Let's sit down, have some coffee and think this out," Rosario suggested.

And so we did.

Sitting in Alex's living room, sipping coffee, having a lively chat—it all seemed so conventional. Except, of course, for the fact that we were deciding what to do next and none of us could take our eyes off the fortune in emeralds that twinkled up at us from the silver tray on the floor.

"Alex, what will you do them?" I asked.

Before he even thought about answering, Rosario quickly added, "Can't leave them here, it's not safe Alex, why you're a sitting duck for a thief."

Alex looked at Rosario, "First thing in the morning, I'll take them to my safe deposit box at my bank."

"May I suggest," Francisco spoke up, "that you take two or three of them to a gemologist for authentication. If I'm not mistaken, the Gemology Institute of America has a headquarters in Carlsbad, that's an easy drive up the coast."

"Excellent idea, I'll look into it in the morning. Shannon, maybe you'd like to come along with me?"

I had stared at the emeralds for so long, that when I broke my gaze and looked at Alex to answer, I could swear his brown eyes were green, "Uh, sure, I'd love to Alex. It'll be nice to get out and see some of the coastline."

"Okay, so as it stands right now," Rosario desperately wanted to clarify everything, "Shannon and Alex will take some emeralds to have them authenticated and Alex will put the rest of the emeralds in his bank safe deposit box. Francisco is leaving tomorrow for Manizales... he'll be gone exactly seven days. About this note, the one that was with the emeralds, are we certain it is from Olivia? Oh, and Alex, what did your Aunt Dora say about the coded message?"

"First," Alex said as he looked to all of us, meeting our eyes, one by one, "in looking at the other examples of Olivia's handwriting, especially the other invisible ink message, then yes, I believe Olivia wrote this note, too. Secondly, Aunt Dora wasn't fazed a bit when I told her about the first invisible ink message and its cryptic code. She is quite certain that the phrase spells out the word LIE. She also says that it would seem natural, even ordinary, that Eric and Olivia would use a code, especially if Olivia was training to be his assistant. And, let's see... as for tomorrow, I think it would be best if I stopped by my bank first, before picking up Shannon, so Shannon, plan on eleven tomorrow morning." He punctuated that plan by looking directly at me, and he smiled. I nodded agreement and I smiled. Alex turned to Rosario, "Anything else?" he asked.

"I was wondering," Francisco hesitated for a moment and then looked at Rosario, "Rosario, where, exactly, did you first see this chest?"

"I found it in the room that Shannon is using, upstairs that is. When I knew she was coming to stay, I asked one of the workmen from the construction crew if they would move it to the front parlor. And that is where it was, until Alex came and fetched it."

"Alex," Francisco turned to look at him, "has the chest always been in the room that Rosario described?"

"That was Aunt Dora's room, at least for as long as I remember, and that is the only room the chest has been in...that I am aware of."

Francisco became very quiet; all of us took on his silence. Then he took out a small pad of paper from his pocket and began writing. We sipped our coffee, content in mesmerized silence

as we gazed at the emeralds and waited for Francisco to stop writing. He scribbled, tore off a sheet of paper, and scribbled again, tore off another sheet of paper. He repeated this activity a couple of times. Finally, he set down his pen and pad; he looked up and handed each of us a slip of his notes. Turns out, he gave us assignments.

"Questions?" Francisco asked.

"Warner Springs?" Zach queried. "Grandpa, I haven't been out there since I was little. You're sure that Uncle Pete will have something worthwhile to add to our investigation?"

"Remember to call him Pedro. Not Pete. He is our best bet for recollecting family history that has do to with Olivia. Also, record your conversation with him. I will call him this evening to make arrangements. And, it is crucial that you ask him every question I've listed, just as I have phrased it."

"Sure Grandpa. I'll get on it first thing in the morning. It's a good opportunity to get out of the city and into the back country," Zach promised.

"Rosario? Shannon?" Francisco asked.

Rosario looked at me for affirmation and answered for both of us, "Piece of cake."

"With icing," I added.

Chapter 21

I didn't see Rosario the next morning. When we said our good-nights, we agreed to keep in contact by telephone the next few days. Zach called to say that he was heading out to Warner Springs. He was filled with enthusiasm for 'our case' and said he would call again later in the evening. Promptly at eleven o'clock Alex picked me up.

We took a leisurely hour drive up the coast to the small seaside town of Carlsbad. The day was gorgeous! Sunny blue sky, hint of a breeze, not a cloud in view. I couldn't have dreamed up a better day to be introduced to California's seductive coastline. We passed pristine beaches and drove through small beach colonies that oozed movie script picture perfect ambience. I fell in love with La Jolla... its numerous small and select art galleries, one-of-a-kind boutiques and retro-California style cafes. Driving down its main street I made Alex promise to stop in La Jolla on the way back.

"Did you ever see the old movie called The Princess Bride?" he asked as we came to a red light.

"I think so... wasn't is a spoof on fairytale stories?"

"Yeah, kind of. Anyway, do you remember what the hero always answered to his princess?"

I looked at Alex and shook my head, "Nooo."

He looked at the green light, took off and answered..."As you wish."

The expert jewelers at the Gemology Institute were awed by the three emeralds that Alex showed them. For the sake of not giving away our real reason for wanting the gemstones authenticated, Alex and Francisco devised a plan by which we told the jewelers that I had inherited these particular three emeralds from a great aunt. And that I hadn't a clue as to what to do with them. Alex and I embellished on the story by saying that my dear great aunt may have inherited them from someone else in the family. Of course, to keep things simple, auntie had lived in San Diego all her life, never married and I was her favorite niece.

We drove away very pleased with our success in carrying out the charade. And we were giddy to the point of silliness knowing that my three emeralds were appraised for upwards of forty-five thousand dollars!

"So, Princess Shannon, what did you say was the name of your dear great aunt who so favored you above and beyond all her other nieces and nephews?" Alex teased.

"Philistina," I giggled, "It was the only really old-fashioned, aristocratic name I could come up with. I figured that if she had emeralds, she must have been old money, an old guard type of socialite."

"Wherever did you reference that name?" he laughed.

"I've not the slightest idea. Honestly, I've never known anyone with that name..." I couldn't stop giggling. " It just popped into my head. I was desperate, I guess."

"It must be hunger that has made you delusional. Let's go to La Jolla and eat at one of the cafes you spied."

"Then," I announced with great phony drama, "it is my wish to dine in La Jolla."

Alex turned to me, smiled, winked and said, "As you wish."

Chapter 22

I awoke the next morning with a panicked start. I sprang out of bed and ran down the stairs to check for telephone messages. Sure enough, I missed Zach's call. Thank goodness, he left his cell number. I rang him up as I took my first sip of coffee.

"Hi Zach. I'm very sorry I missed your call last night. Thanks for leaving your number."

"Hey, no problem. Uncle Pedro and I made a late night of it. Wait 'til you see what I'm bringing back. Shannon, you won't believe the stack of old photos and letters and stuff Uncle Pedro has held onto all these years."

"That's phenomenal! Any breakthroughs?"

"Well, I have some photos of Olivia. She was beautiful, wait 'til you see her. And photos of some of her family, her parents and two brothers and a younger sister named Tina. She and Olivia were close, wrote to each other a lot."

"Will you get copies of everything?"

"Oh, yeah. No problem. Uncle Pedro has some high-tech copiers in his office."

Oh, you're at his place of work?"

"Well, it's a ranch. It's been in the family for generations. Olivia's sister Tina lived here with her husband and family. That's where Uncle Pedro comes into the picture. The ranch passed down to him from Tina's youngest son. I'll have to bring you here sometime. It's really pretty. And the horses are gorgeous... they're bred for rodeo. Got some champions out here."

I laughed at how far off the subject we had strayed..." Champion horses or champion cowboys?"

"Both. And don't call them cowboys, they are vaqueros," he said in his best impersonation of Francisco's voice and tone. "Anyway, listen, I have to go. I'm very glad you called. And, uh, about the assignment that Grandpa gave you... he told me you might need my help, but he didn't say what for."

"Yes, I might. When will you be back?"

"Tomorrow."

"Good. By tomorrow I'll know if I'll need your help."

"Do I get a clue what this is about?" He fished.

"Absolutely not," I giggled.

"Ohh-kay. Take care Shannon, you're in my thoughts."

"Thanks Zach, I'll talk with you tomorrow. Call me first thing?"

"Will do."

Talking with Zach left me in a good mood. I felt as if I could conquer all challenges that came my way. I quickly dressed and set off to snoop around at the San Diego Office of Planning and Code Enforcement.

I found the office easy enough and helpful employees kept me on the right track as I navigated a maze of corridors and elevators. When at last, the last elevator door opened, I walked out into a vast basement, brightly lit, with a clerk's information cubicle straight ahead. He, a Mr. Geramandi, was helpful, too. When I told him my project was to find all blueprints related to the Blackthorne House, he typed words into his computer, printed out a page and escorted me to the right area. Filed away in wide drawers, usually called horizontal files in libraries, were blueprints. In file cabinets just a few steps away, we located plans relating to the original construction, general additions and renovation over the years. I found this research incredibly fascinating.

"Do you have a background in engineering or architecture?" Geramandi asked.

"No. I have some experience with these things, from a writer's point of view, and from a Chicago perspective."

"Ahhh, well you may need some help," he suggested in a diplomatic way. "I can refer you to some professionals."

"Thanks, but no. I have a friend who is a professional. Zachary Zavala, maybe you've heard of him?"

"Certainly have. He's one of the best restoration architects in the business—course, that's just my opinion," he offered. "Let's get these copied for you."

Twenty minutes later I was on my way with an armful of copies.

On the way home I called Rosario to see if she wanted to eat Mexican take-out with me. She was too busy, said she wouldn't see me until tomorrow. I told her I would have plenty if she changed her mind.

It took me two trips from my car to the house to get everything, in one piece, without spilling my food or damaging my precious copies. I laid the copies on the large parlor table. Then I set the food in the kitchen and wolfed down a burrito and a glass of milk. Cleaned up, no hot sauce on my fingers, I tackled the paperwork in the parlor.

Two hours went by. I sorted the various blueprints and plans by time period. It was pretty straightforward. The house took about two years to build, mostly due to delays in delivery of building materials. A renovation to the main house occurred only once. But the carriage house was more complicated. It had been turned into a garage, then a workshop was added on, and then renovated again to enlarge the garage.

I studied the copies all day and into the night. By eleven, I was satisfied with my understanding of the skeleton and construction of Blackthorne House. My eyes felt dry and gritty as sandpaper, and I had a mean stiffness in my neck and shoulders. I pondered whether or not to ask Zach for help. I decided to sleep on it.

I dreamt of crows. Lots of crows. And in my dream I kept trying to remember the name for a flock of them. In my dream landscape, one particular crow kept coming back to me. Flying right up to me as if it were beckoning me to follow it. When I didn't, it soared high above me in spiraling circles and then swooped down right in front of me. "Crazy crow, what do you want?" I followed it.

Then, in an abstract segue, I stood in a grassy clearing. The crows were flying away from me trumpeting caw, caw.

"Silly crows!" I shouted. I turned to go... where? Home?

I saw another crow perched on a rock, picking at a large stone jug. The crow kept tipping its head inside the jug, as if it were trying to drink from it. I walked over, knelt down and the crow looked up at me, pleading. I reached for the jug, but there was only a little water in it.

"Silly crow, this water is too far down for you to drink it." I cupped my left hand and with my right hand I grabbed the jug and poured water into it. The crow drank from my hand and flew away.

"Murder!" I screamed. And that is how I woke up. Screaming murder. Of course I realized I had just answered my dream question. A large flock of crows is called a murder of crows.

Chapter 23

After scaring myself awake, I got dressed and went downstairs to scare up some breakfast. Over a glass of orange juice and a bowl of rice cereal, I sketched out a plan to survey each room in accordance with the blueprints. I have to admit the scope of my project was beginning to look like it would take more than one day to accomplish. With that thought, I decided to leave the garage for another day. I filled a tote bag with essentials: flashlight, carpenter's measuring tape reel, pad, pen, camera, paper towels for the dust I would likely encounter and a bottle of water so I wouldn't have to trek up and down three levels of stairs to quench my thirst. I put the hallway phone on first ring to pickup calls and headed up to the top story tower room.

The entire top floor was empty. Not so much as a spider peeked out from a corner or crevice. It was disappointing. All the murder mysteries I'd read indicated that the tower room should reveal something. The room had a spectacular view that the city had grown up around. If I stood on my tiptoes and craned my neck, I could see ships in the harbor. This entire floor was immaculate. Rosario and her work crew made sure the windows sparkled, the paint was crisp and fresh, and no dust bunnies anywhere. Still, I painstakingly measured walls, ceilings, floors, doors and windows. I tapped on walls for hallow sounds that might indicate hidden spaces. It all measured up, exactly as the house plans stated.

After two hours on the top floor, sticking to my agenda of going from room to room, I was beginning to wonder if everything that has happened so far was all in my head. And what about my crow dream? There must be some hint of that dream lurking about in this house. I descended to the second floor.

I'd finished all rooms but my own, and when coming out of what had been Alex's room when he was young, I noticed an unusual picture on the wall, near his door. Five feet up on the wall, about a foot away from the door jam, was a small plaque. And wouldn't you know it... it was a crow!

The frame was twelve inches square, bronze or maybe brass. A ten-inch square colored tile in the center depicted a crow standing beside a larger pottery pitcher; actually, the pottery looked more like a vase. On the ground near the crow were scattered pebbles. The crow had one pebble in his opened beak and was leaning over as if he intended to drop the pebble into the pottery. Below this picture was a question: HOW MANY STONES?

"How many stones?" I said out loud, hoping it would trigger some deeply hidden logic. I shook my head, closed the door behind me and stepped across the hall to my room. My room didn't solve any mysteries. Even the hidden wall safe that Aunt Dora had told me about had been expertly filled in and covered. By mid-afternoon I was discouraged, hungry and needed a break. Thank goodness the phone rang. I dashed down the stairs and caught it just as the answering machine picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Shannon, it's Zach. I just got in. How's your survey going?"

"Dull and boring. I completed the third and second floors and was taking a break before I start this floor. So far, every nook and cranny, every cornice, corner and hallway matches perfectly with the blueprints!"

"Ah, don't be discouraged, something will turn up," Zach said with a tone of amusement.

"It's not funny, Zach. I'm beginning to think your grandfather gave me a bogus assignment."

"Oh, he wouldn't do that," Zach contested. "Look... it sounds as if you could use some help, and Grandpa did tell you to call me. Well, I called you. How about if I come over, right now?"

I hesitated... "No, that's okay. I'm just addled a bit. Besides, I'm about through for the day. Maybe tomorrow," I offered, "I haven't explored the garage yet."

"Name your time, before or after church?" Zach replied.

"Hmm, I'd forgotten what day it is. Uh, after church, about two?"

"I'll be there," Zach promised. "Oh, and Shannon, don't get discouraged. We'll get a break in this case, soon."

I cleaned up and was about to have a bite to eat when the phone rang again. It was Alex.

"Hello."

"Hi Shannon, how are you today?"

"I'd be better if your house wasn't disappointingly unencumbered of hidden staircases, false doors and spider webs."

"You mean, you didn't discover any skeletons lurking in closets?" he teased.

"I wish! But, Alex, that little picture tile of a crow standing beside a pottery vase, on the wall, right inside your old room... at the bottom of that tile it says how many stones? Do you know what that means?"

"Yes, I remember it. It has something to do with a parlor amusement from the Victorian era. Look on the back, there should be something on the back about it. Aunt Dora gave it to me. She said it was original to the house. It used to be on the wall in the hallway, right outside the room you're in. Some kind of riddle... that's what it is. I can come over and take a look, right now if you like?"

"Thanks, but no. I'm tired and I want to relax for a while. I'll do as you suggest and if anything comes of it, I'll call back. It's nothing really, it caught my attention and I thought it was curious."

"Okay, I'm a call away if you change your mind."

"Thanks, Alex. We'll talk later, Bye."

As soon as I hung up, I ran up to Alex's old room and lifted the tile off the wall and took it back to the kitchen for closer inspection.

Tucked in the back of the tile was a folded piece of paper. In a script that matched Eric Blackthorne's was written:

The Crow and the Pitcher, A Fable

Flying over a sunny landscape, a crow, whose throat was parched and dry saw a water pitcher in the distance. In great relief he flew to it, but discovered that the tall vessel held only a small amount of water at the bottom, too deep for him to drink. First he attempted to tip the pitcher, thinking he would at least catch some water as drops spilled forth. Alas, the crow was not strong enough to overturn the heavy pottery. In the end, the crow found pebbles nearby and one by one dropped the small stones into the vessel until the water level rose high enough for him to drink.

Riddle: The vessel is one-quart cylindrical containing ten times the amount of water required. Yet, the crow discovered the water level was below the twenty-eight-ounce level he could reach. The crow needed at least two ounces of water to quench his thirst. Each pebble the crow dropped into the vessel displaced one-half ounce of water.

How many stones did the crow drop into the pitcher?

I could never resist a riddle and in junior high mathematics I excelled at word problems. I set to work and in five minutes I had the answer: For the crow to drink the two ounces of water it needed, the water had to be raised to a thirty-ounce level, which was two ounces above the level first accessible to him. That meant that because there were twenty ounces of water in the pitcher, ten ounces of water had to be displaced to reach a level easy enough for the crow to drink it. Therefore, with each stone displacing one-half ounce of water, the clever crow dropped a total of twenty stones into the pitcher.

"Well! At least I accomplished something today," I congratulated myself, thinking all the while that solving a Victorian era riddle wasn't much help to my investigation. Yet, I couldn't help wondering if my crow dream, this crow riddle and its solution were relevant to the Blackthorne House mystery. "Twenty stones..." I mumbled as I pondered the possibilities. What could twenty stones mean? There were thirty-eight emeralds, so that didn't match.

Running my fingers lightly over the crow tile, I wondered how it might fit in to all that was happening. I picked up my tote bag of tools and finished surveying the rest of the house. As it turns out, the main floor was no more helpful that the other two floors. Every room equaled its blueprint twin. Feeling defeated, I decided to make an early night of it and catch up on sleep that erratic dreams had robbed me of. As I headed up the stairs, Rosario called to remind me I had accepted her invitation to attend early mass. I promised I'd be there at eight. I was too weary to chat and Rosario was businesslike. I could hear her organizing papers in the background. Obviously, she was busy to the point of distraction. Thankfully, she didn't notice my mood.

Chapter 24

After church Rosario suggested we have brunch at a nearby sidewalk café. I was glad it was just we two and we agreed not to discuss the investigation. Clearly, we needed a break from the Blackthorne House project, its mystery and digging up the past. The late morning was sunny and warm. We enjoyed a brunch of shrimp, mozzarella and tomato salad, and then we topped off the meal with a sliver of decadent chocolate cheesecake.

"Mmm... this cheesecake is just what I need, and don't need!" I teased.

"Ah, a few extra calories won't hurt you, you're young enough to work it off through daily activity. I am the one who needs to watch her diet... age does that, you know."

"Actually, I don't know, but I'll take your word for it and indulge while I can," I smiled.

"So, Shannon, what's on your agenda for the rest of this lovely day?"

I set down my fork and answered. "Well, I am anxious to finish comparing the blue prints of Blackthorne House to its structure. And, with this being a day off for Zach, he offered to help."

"But, dear, you said you needed time off from Blackthorne House."

"I know, I know. But, Rosario, if Zach helps me today, I can get this part of my assignment out of the way and it won't nag at me," I protested.

She looked at me thoughtfully, reached over and patted my hand, "No time like the present, is there? And Zach, I'm sure will be of assistance, he's so knowledgeable about old architecture."

"Then, you don't mind if I pay the bill and head back home?"

"I do too, mind!"

She reached over and grabbed the bill before I could pick it up. "I invited you to brunch. I will pay the bill and not another word from you, young lady!"

"Oh, Rosario, some people never change, thank God, you are one of those people," I got up, hugged her and went on my way.

Once I got home I called Zach. He'd said he'd be right over. No kidding! I had no sooner changed my clothes than the doorbell chimed.

"Hi Zach, come on in."

"Did you have a pleasant morning?"

"Yeah, sure did, follow me out the back and I'll tell you about my brunch with Rosario."

Five minutes later we stood in front of the garage. I said to Zach, "You probably know more about garages than I do. How about if we take a look at the blueprints and plans at the table over there?" I pointed to a patio table in the side garden, about ten feet to the right of the garage.

"Sure."

I laid out the paperwork and gave Zach a few minutes to study everything. After a while, he looked up, "This shouldn't take too long, it's logical and uncomplicated."

We spent the next hour comparing the interior of the garage to the paperwork.

"That does it, Shannon. Nothing appears to be off kilter. All the plans were executed to perfection. Exactly what I expected from this high quality of construction."

"Foiled, again. I thought for sure we'd find something suspicious."

Zach looked at me and shook his head. "Well, I can study the blueprints again."

"Zach, I'd really, really appreciate it, if you don't mind. How about if I busy myself in the kitchen and I'll bring some coffee out in a few minutes?"

"Sure, sounds good. I could use a pick-me-up right about now."

Fifteen minutes later I set a tray of coffee and cups on the patio table. "Any luck?"

"Afraid not." Zach put down the papers, rolled them up and set them off to the side. "Thanks for the coffee."

We sipped in silence. Looking around, mostly at the ground, I noticed something peculiar.

"Zach, look at the markers in that path," I pointed to the far side of the garage, opposite from us. We got up to get a closer look.

"They're overgrown with grass, must be old, maybe original to the house?" I asked Zach.

Zach knelt down beside the first marker and pulled away grass so he could see the edge. "These look like the flat side of zanja stones. In this area of California in the late 1800's, the original zanjas built in the 1700's. to canal water were upgraded using concrete. These old zanja paving stones were free for the asking. Lots of residents used them to make pathways. As you see, they're just the right size for stepping stones."

Looking around the garage's corner, I could see that the zanja stone pathway led back to a weed infested area. "I think we should follow these stones."

"I agree. But watch your step, this is spring time, and we have snakes in this area."

I took Zach's advice, he wore heavy construction boots, and all I had on were running shoes. I let Zach lead. We lightly cleared each stone in the path as we came upon it. The last stone came a foot short of the back exterior wall of the garage. We stared at a doorway that had been bricked over. I looked back and silently counted twenty stones!

Chapter 25

"Shannon, I bet this is the break we've been hunting for," Zach said with excitement.

"What do we do now?"

"Stay right here, I need to get some tools out of my truck."

Zach came back with a sledgehammer and a crowbar. "Shannon, do you think Rosario will object if we knock down this wall?

"Hmm, I suppose— "

"—Wait a minute, you two!" Rosario hollered from the front of the garage. She carefully made her way through the weeds to where we were. "What in the world are you doing?"

"Rosario, this is so exciting! Look at this covered up doorway," I explained.

She scrutinized it and then stepped back, "It is odd. But, knocking it down? I don't know. "

Zach took over from there, "Rosario, I guarantee you, this bricked over doorway is not authentic to the structure. I promise I will carefully remove the bricks in a manner that I can restore the doorway, at my cost," he offered.

She looked at both of us, thought for a minute and then nodded in agreement. "Okay, but I'm staying right here."

"Ladies, please step back."

We stepped far out of the way. Zach lifted the sledgehammer and gave a heave-ho. The bricks crashed inward. When the dust settled, about three feet inside an alcove was an old wood door that had been secured from the outside with chains locked together. Using a crowbar, Zach carefully removed the remaining bricks. After that we pitched in and set all the bricks and debris off to the side. Zach examined the alcove door and decided it was original to the structure.

"Good grief!" exclaimed Rosario. "What do you suppose is behind it that warranted all this security?"

"I have heavy-duty metal cutters in my truck. We can find out right now," Zach looked at Rosario.

"Okay," Rosario agreed. And Zach ran to his truck.

Twenty minutes later the chains were off. This was the moment of truth.

"Stand back," Zach gestured us out of the way. "Whatever is behind this door, is in an airtight space. That could be bad air, toxic dust... who knows? Shannon, have the flashlight ready."

Zach pushed open the door. Just like a scene from the creepiest kind of scary movie, the rusted hinges let loose an eerie screech that sent chills up my spine. I handed him the flashlight. The beam of light was devoured by the inky blackness as the three of us stared into the darkness of a room that was a windowless cellar. A short flight of wooden stairs led down about eight feet.

"Let's not try the stairs. They look too old," cautioned Rosario.

Zach stepped as far as possible into the doorway's landing without putting his weight on the top step. He directed the flashlight down the stairs. What he saw drained the color from his face.

"Look, look!" he gasped and pointed to the bottom of the stairs.

There lay a skeleton dressed in the remains of old-fashioned apparel. It appeared to be a woman, and around her were the skeletons of snakes!

Rosario was the first to regain any sense of composure. "I'm calling the police and then I'm calling Alex. Zach, you should call your grandfather and you two need to come back into the house," she turned and ran toward the house.

Too stunned, I looked at Zach, "Come on, Zach," I put my hand on his shoulder, "let's do as Rosario says. Francisco needs to know about this"

Zach turned from the horror; "It's Olivia. In my gut I know it's her."

Chapter 26

Alex arrived before the police. Of course, he had to see for himself what we had found, so Zach took him out back to show him the hidden cellar. I waited in the kitchen with Rosario for the police to show up. When the phone in the hall rang, I rushed to get it; sure that it was the police.

"Hello."

"Shannon, it's Francisco. A few moments ago I got a message to call Zach, he sounded upset."

"Francisco, I'm so glad you called... " I spent the next five minutes summarizing the horrible turn of events... "I can get Zach for you, he's out back with Alex."

"No, leave him be. Let everyone know that in light of these developments, I'll leave right away. I'll be home tomorrow. Shannon, listen, the detective that is taking this case is a colleague of mine. I called him immediately after I got Zach's message. I've explained what I know and I'll call him, again, right now. Any statements he may ask of you, Zach and Rosario will be minimal, at least for tonight. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sure, I'll explain that to everyone. They—the police—should be here soon. Francisco, Zach is very certain that the, uh, person we found is Olivia."

"My guess is that he is right, but that's based on what I've learned, and I'll explain when I get back. Shannon, just stay calm and let the forensic team do their job, okay?"

"Sure, and Francisco, please be very careful."

"I will. Don't worry."

I hung up the phone and walked back into the kitchen. Alex and Zach were still out back. Rosario looked pensive, an unusual mood for her. She looked at me with concern that furrowed her forehead, "I do hope this nightmare will bring about closure to the mystery."

I nodded, "Whom ever that poor person is, it appears as if they were murdered... thrown down into that dark cellar, locked in with all those snakes. Dear God, do you suppose the person died that way... bitten by snakes?"

Rosario bent her head and shook it in despair, she was about to say something, but the doorbell chimed—

"I'll get it," I dashed out of the kitchen. When I opened the front door, a plainclothes detective, tall, thin, gray haired with a dark African complexion introduced himself as Chuck Warner. I welcomed Detective Warner into the parlor. Alex and Zach, having come in through the kitchen were standing there with Rosario. We all sat down.

Looking around at our grim faces, the detective expressed a quiet apology for the turn of events. "I'm so sorry for this unfortunate discovery. As you may already know, Francisco Zavala called me and has requested I handle this situation."

"That's true," I interjected, looking at the others. "Francisco called a little while ago. He said he would give Detective Warner a background on what has happened here," I looked around at everyone. The expression on their faces told me they understood.

"As I understand," Warner looked to each of us as he spoke, "what we need to do next is have the forensic team investigate the scene, collect evidence and report. Because of the late hour, I've called in the assignment for tomorrow morning. However, right now, I must do my best to secure the area. Is there a tarp that I could use to place over the cellar opening?"

Rosario perked up, probably because she saw an opportunity that would allow her to do something productive. "Yes, we have several large heavy canvass tarps in the garage. I insisted on keeping them around because we have had to do last-minute repairs and paint touch-ups."

"Perfect," answered Detective Warner. "Maybe Zach and Mr. Blackthorne will assist me in taking care of this?"

Zach was already standing, eager to help. Alex stood up and led the way out through the kitchen. I stayed inside with Rosario.

"I'm putting some coffee on," Rosario walked quickly into the kitchen. I followed. As the coffee brewed, we watched Zach, Alex and Detective Warner from the kitchen window.

"I understand Zach's excitement over this discovery, but Alex's brooding quietness has me at odds," I said.

"I agree. And I don't know what to make of it," Rosario answered. "Maybe after the detective leaves, Alex will have something to say. Let's take the coffee into the parlor."

"Good idea. I can see them coming back."

When the three men came into the parlor Rosario poured coffee for all of us, except the detective. He declined and remained standing.

"I have all the information I need, for now. And I've given Mr. Blackthorne my contact information. I trust no one will tamper with the scene," he looked at each of us one by one. "And the forensic team will be here in the morning. You'll hear from me again when I have reports from the investigation." He turned to leave and Rosario got up to see him out.

Zach broke the silence. "Shannon, maybe you shouldn't stay here tonight?"

I looked up to answer, but before I could utter a sound, Alex spoke up.

"Oh, and where do you suggest she spend the night?" he looked at Zach accusingly.

But before Zach could reply, Rosario, standing in the doorway, said, "Nonsense! What happened in that cellar was over a century ago. Shannon has nothing to worry about. And, besides, I keep extra clothing and supplies here. I will stay here tonight."

Now it was my turn, "Rosario is right. In fact, there's no need for her to stay. I'll be fine."

"Fine or not, I'm staying the night. No more discussion about it." Rosario stated as she picked up our empty coffee cups and walked into the kitchen.

"That settles that. I'm calling it a night," I announced as I left Alex and Zach in the parlor and called out a good-night to Rosario.

Rosario's reply of "Sleep tight, dear" was all that I heard as I ran upstairs. I never did find out how Alex and Zach handled, or mishandled their differences.

Chapter 27

The next morning I came down to the kitchen and found Rosario keeping sentinel at the kitchen window. "There's a team of five forensic investigators out there. Wouldn't you know it, they insisted I stay inside," she said with a hint of aggravation.

I craned my neck to get a better view, but couldn't see anyone, "Are they around the backside of the garage?"

"Yes. They've already taken the human remains away. I think they are gathering the snake skeletons now," Rosario whispered, as if we were trying to keep this a secret. "And, according to what they told me when they showed up, after that, they'll take photos and evidence samples...of what I'm not sure. Last of all, they'll seal up the crime scene with police tape."

I nodded my acknowledgments and took a seat at the kitchen table. "Have you had breakfast yet?" I asked.

"Oh, no, I'm too preoccupied with all this activity," she absently gestured with both hands pointing toward the backyard.

"Well, I'm hungry. How about if I make an omelet for us to share?"

Rosario turned around and gave me a once-over look that implied I was the most curious creature she had ever laid eyes on, "Sure, whatever," she mumbled and turned back to stare out the window.

I busied myself the next fifteen minutes with making as much noise as possible to distract Rosario, but after all my clamor, it was the aroma of eggs and toast that got her attention.

"Mmm... Shannon, this is good."

Now that I finally had her attention— "Rosario, did Zach and Alex leave at the same time last night?"

"Those two men acted like jealous teenage boys. Good grief, Shannon, I thought they were going to camp out in the parlor," she laughed. "I had to shoo them off. So, yes, I guess you could say that they left at the same time, but most certainly, they did not leave together!"

"It was nice of Zach to be concerned for me," I said, looking over at Rosario, fishing for her reaction, "even though it was unnecessary."

"I think it was Zach speaking up that got Alex so brash," Rosario mused. "Not that Alex wasn't concerned, after all, I was, too. Rather, it was because Zach spoke up first. Kinda beat Alex to the finish line," she said.

"Hmm, yes, I think you're right." Then to change the subject I asked, "Do you know when we might see Francisco?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. He called early to ask if we could all meet tomorrow. I told him I'd arrange it. How about tomorrow at dinner?"

"Fine by me. Will you call Alex and Zach?" I asked.

"Alex, I'll call. But Zach I don't have to. He's been here and left, already."

Chapter 28

Dinner was a simple affair. Rosario made a hearty beef stew, accompanied with a side of green salad and cornbread. Zach tried to lighten the mood by referring to the dinner as comfort food and asked if we were having chocolate pudding, topped with miniature marshmallows for dessert.

"Zach, if you ask one more time for pudding, I'll make sure Francisco gets your helping of apple pie," Rosario teased.

"Hey, you can't do that. The only dessert more comforting than chocolate pudding is apple pie, right Grandpa?"

Francisco looked at, laughed and pointed at Zach, "I won't debate that issue. I don't want to upset Rosario, or who knows, she might decide to give my helping of pie to you."

The comical exchange between grandfather and grandson even got Alex to smile.

"However," Alex said looking at Zach and then at Francisco, "If the two of you get on Rosario's bad side, then that means there will be more pie for me!"

Rosario couldn't remain quiet another moment. "Oh, hush all of you. I'll have you know, there's plenty of pie, I made two." We all applauded.

After pie and coffee, I helped Rosario clear the table. After that, the five of us sat down, again, at the big parlor table. Francisco began the discussion.

"I had the chance earlier to look at the cellar, and based on the cursory report I received from Detective Warner, I think we are all correct is saying that the person found there is, indeed, Olivia Blackthorne."

Francisco looked around the table, it was clear that all of us came to the same conclusion. "Go on," I urged him.

"The general scenario being considered by the forensic team is that Olivia was locked in the cellar with several rattle snakes. Seven snake skeletons were found, all intact, and that she died from venom poisoning from snake bites. Olivia's placement in the cellar was not by accident. It was murder. She was alive when she was locked in there. It is too early to tell if what little evidence that was collected will lead to identifying the person who did this to her. After over a century, there is very little evidence to go on," Francisco clasped his hands on the table top and looked around at our solemn faces."

"How dreadful!" Rosario exclaimed. "Who would do this to her, and why?"

"Miguel murdered her," said Alex.

"Yes, I bet it was him," agreed Zach.

"But, we can't be sure, we may never know, right Francisco?" I asked.

"That is true, Shannon. It is always most challenging to solve a cold case file even under the best of circumstances. But this case..." Francisco shook his head... "is the coldest of cases I've ever heard of. Perhaps, it is best that we continue fitting pieces of the puzzle together. Let us share what we have learned."

"Yes, let's do that," Rosario said. "I'm ready with my report." She looked at us.

Let's see," Francisco looked down at his notes, "Rosario, I asked you to find out where Olivia and Eric went to after their ship docked in San Francisco. What have you found out?"

"I investigated old newspapers from San Francisco to New York and many places in-between. And digging back that far was worth every hour. First, Olivia and Eric stayed in San Francisco ten days. Eric performed to a sell-out theater twice. By all accounts—in numerous society pages—he was a phenomenal hit. As a couple they were the toasts of the town, one columnist actually described them that way.

"After San Francisco," Rosario continued, "Eric played to another full theatre in Saint Louis, Missouri. Evidently, they were there only about five days, because the two of them show up nine days later in Buffalo, New York. Eric had three performances there, all very successful. After that they went to New York City where Eric had four performances within ten days. The most interesting aspect about the New York news reports was that two papers reported that Eric and Olivia left for Scotland on a ship named the Atlantic Empress on December twentieth, that year, 1888." Rosario put down her notes and looked up with expectation.

"Excellent, excellent," commented Francisco. He turned to me, "Shannon, we now know that the only aspect of this house that is unusual is the hidden cellar, so tell us, what about the emeralds?"

"They are authentic and quite valuable. The three that Alex and I took to the gemologist were appraised at forty-five thousand dollars!" I glanced up from notes to meet the query of raised eyebrows.

Alex nodded his head and said, "That's true, the entire quantity is worth a fortune, several times over. Hard to believe, but true. Anyway, I guess I'm next?"

Francisco glanced at his notes, "Yes, Alex, I asked you to visit with your Aunt Dora. What did you find out about the magicians' chest?"

"To the best of her recollection, Aunt Dora said she first found the chest out in the back of the garage, way in the back. She was about seventeen, was getting ready to go on a Christmas vacation with a school friend to a Colorado ski resort. They were traveling by rail and Dora wanted a sturdy trunk to pack all her heavy winter clothes in for the trip. She said someone in the family thought there was luggage in the garage. So, she and some friends went out there to rummage around. They found the chest in a wooden shipping crate, which looked like it was falling apart. Dora remembers there was a packing label on the crate, it was an address for Aberdeen, Scotland. She and her friends hauled the chest inside, up to her room. When she opened the chest, all that was in it was the cape and the old cargo bag. The same items we found. Dora doesn't know anything about an old overcoat. However, she did say that shortly after that, maybe the following spring, was when she redecorated her room. She thought that maybe the old coat got dumped in the chest at that time."

"So, Aunt Dora did not take the chest on her vacation?" I asked.

"That's right. In fact, after she hauled it up to her room, she never paid much attention to it."

"And, Alex," I continued, "isn't Aberdeen, Scotland where your family is from, where your sister now lives?"

"Yes, much of our family ancestry is there, goes back many generations."

"Do you suppose that when Eric and Olivia left New York for Scotland, that Aberdeen was their final destination?" asked Rosario.

Until now, Zach had been quiet. "Hey! I know for a fact that Aberdeen is where they went. It says so in one of the family letters I found at Uncle Pedro's home!"

"Whoa!" Francisco put his hands up. "We are getting ahead of ourselves. This is all very exciting, but let's not forget that an investigation must be done in an orderly manner." He turned to Alex, "Anything else to add?"

"No. That does it for me." Alex turned to Zach, "Zach?"

Chapter 29

Zach reached down to the floor and picked up a briefcase. By the handful, he laid photos and a few letters on the table. Next, he took out a note pad, looking down at it; he began talking while he sorted through his bounty of paper evidence.

"This photo," he held up a large sepia toned photograph, "is left to right, Olivia, her younger sister Tina, she is holding her new born baby girl, Rosa and next to them are her brothers, Jauquin, Geraldo and Antonio. The photo was taken out at the ranch in Warner Springs. The date on the back says, 'June 1889. Tina's baby arrived two weeks early,' then it names all the other people in the photograph."

Zach passed the photo around and picked up another photo and held it up. "This one is of Tina with Olivia and Eric Blackthorne. On the back it says, 'My dear sister and her handsome husband are leaving, I fear I may never see them again.' I know from letters that it is Tina's handwriting. This photo is dated October twenty-sixth, 1888. And here is another photo, not in very good shape, but it shows Olivia and Miguel in good likeness. It's dated May 1888.

"Then I have some letters that Olivia wrote to Tina." Zach held up a handful of papers. "I've read all of them, and of course, all of you can, too. But, I wrote notes about pertinent information. Here goes: November fifth, 1888, Olivia writes from San Francisco, 'Dearest Tina, Do not fret. Our travel here was smooth sailing. Life is most enjoyable. San Francisco is an exciting and mesmerizing metropolis. We travel to Missouri next. I will write when we arrive there. Please enjoy this little teapot. I purchased it especially for you at an exquisite china emporium. Also, here are a few photo cards for your album, as you can see S.F. has many interesting landmarks. P.S. No person on earth can spoil this happiness for me.'

"I thought that last remark was interesting," Zach added as he set the letter down and picked up another. "This one is dated December first, 1888. Olivia writes, 'Saint Louis is a river town, you would not believe the diversity of people that pass through it. As with S.F., Eric is a sensation! We are treated like royalty! Tell papa that he would love the horses I've seen. He must send a vaquero here to shop for him! I know the weather at home is beginning to cool. I chose this velvet cape for you at a local shop; its deep red color is perfect for your complexion. Merry Christmas my dear sister! And do not fret, we are not being shadowed. Eric has hired private security; he comes with the highest of recommendations. Next stop is Buffalo. I'll write then.' Once again, the last remark is intriguing.

"I didn't find a letter from Buffalo. This next one is from New York City. Olivia says, 'We will spend Christmas at sea! Never in my life did I ever expect to do this! Oh, the events and balls, which are planned on board, will have me busy every moment! You must keep busy too, but also must take care of your health. Imagine my surprise to receive your wire of the blessed event that you have to look forward to! Eric is thrilled; he has never been an uncle! He says that when your child is old enough to travel, that you must come to Scotland for the summer. Of course, that is several years away, but it shall never be too soon to plan a reunion to look forward to! Please tell papa and our brothers that everyone is in my prayers, especially you, my dearest one. We are safe. Please rest easy.' Again, an unusual note of caution in regard to Olivia and Eric's welfare."

Zach paused a moment while he sifted through letters, then he held up a letter, longer in length than the others. "This last letter, which I'll summarize, was written by Olivia saying she was sailing for home to help take care of Tina. Evidently, Olivia had received a letter from their brother Antonio telling her that Tina's pregnancy was not going well. Olivia, in the letter, insists that she will come home to Warner Springs to care for Tina and stay on after the child's birth to help out. This letter is dated April first, 1889, and it mentions the performance program, the one in which Olivia made a note to her father, the same program that grandpa requested Alex to autograph at his most recent performance." Zach folded his arms and leaned on the table, looking at us, he said, "I think this is amazing evidence, so far, don't you?"

Everyone expressed agreement.

"So much of what has been presented so far is tying up loose ends," I commented. "We need to spend some time and put these links in a time frame kind of order. I can do that tomorrow, if all of you don't mind leaving everything, photos, letters, notes, here with me?"

"Shannon," Francisco said, "that's a good idea. But, I have something to add."

"Yes, do tell what you found out in Colombia," Rosario beckoned.

Chapter 30

"Because of the evidence I located and the persons I spoke with, I believe Miguel Pico was involved in smuggling emeralds," Francisco said with utmost seriousness. "On November eighteenth of 1888, a prominent jeweler in Manizales reported that during the night his office safe had been broken into, it was blown up with dynamite. Among the various gemstones reported stolen were thirty-eight master-cut and faceted emeralds. Authorities were notified immediately the next morning and they issued holds on all ships leaving the nearby harbors. However, one ship, the La Jolla, left before harbors were closed. According to manifest reports, Captain Santillo was commander of the La Jolla on that day.

"Furthermore," Francisco continued, "this same ship docked in San Diego seventeen days later. Harbor police searched it, but nothing out of the ordinary was discovered. When asked if the ship had docked anywhere else, Captain Santillo reported that he had to make an emergency stop, anchored off the coast of Baja California, for repairs to his sails. He explained that the sea was calm on that day and it was the most opportune time to make the repairs necessary to continue the trip. Of course, there was, and is, absolutely no way to verify or disqualify his explanation," Francisco said with a wry smile and then continued.

"Three months later, another heist was pulled-off in a very similar manner, but this time it was a bank safe that was dynamited open. The thief made away with ten thousand dollars in notes and another cache of master-cut emeralds. Twenty-five large emeralds, purchased by a Russian nobleman went missing that day and have yet to be found. Again, the harbors were closed. And again, the only ship that finessed an early departure was the La Jolla, captained by Santillo. I couldn't find a record of where, or if, the La Jolla ever made port near here. However, in May of 1889, Miguel Pico purchased a coffee plantation. Where by all accounts he lived out the rest of his days and never so much as stepped on board a ship ever again. He died on his plantation in 1936; he was eighty years old. One more interesting bit of information," Francisco held up his hand, "Pico named his plantation Mi Valle Esmeralda."

"My Emerald Valley!" Zach exclaimed. "He sure was bold. I guess authorities there never suspected him?"

"Why should they?" Francisco offered. "Pico married into a prominent coffee plantation family. I'm sure his in-laws were delighted that he gave up his sea trading in favor of going into business with them."

"And besides," Rosario added, "they had no idea about the kind of person he was."

"What you say is true," Francisco looked at Rosario, "by all accounts, in Manizales, Miguel Pico was an upstanding citizen and successful businessman."

"What happened to his family?" I asked.

"After Pico's death the family lost most of its holdings. The land wealth was divided too many ways. Today, not a single foot of the original Pico plantation is in the ownership of one of his descendents," Francisco explained.

"Whew!" Alex spoke up. "So far, all the twists and turns in this case have me baffled. I like Shannon's idea about organizing all these dates and details. Maybe we should meet again in a day or two?"

"I can work all day tomorrow on organizing the findings and details," I offered.

"Let's do this," Francisco suggested, "Shannon will take all that we know and summarize the case so far. I will hound around at my old headquarters and the coroner's office to stay on top of the forensic developments. Alex, could you find out from your sister in Scotland if Eric Blackthorne died there and if so, is he buried there?"

"I'll call her and ask. But, if he didn't die in or around our family estate in Aberdeen... Well, looking throughout all of Scotland would be like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"Oh, I agree," Francisco said. "But I suspect that if Eric was not laid to rest in Aberdeen, he will not be found anywhere in Scotland. That said, I suggest we meet again in two days, same arrangement, except," Francisco looked directly at Rosario, "I insist on bringing dinner."

Rosario perked up and smiled, "Be my guest."

"And me, grandpa, what can I do to help?"

"Zach, go about your work as usual, but be on call in case Shannon needs clarifications regarding the materials you brought from Uncle Pedro's. However, do not pester her. Shannon has her work cut out for her," he winked at me.

Chapter 31

Francisco surprised us by catering French food for dinner. Everything was scrumptious. I had to keep asking Francisco to pronounce the names of the dishes. It became obvious to everyone that French was never my forte! We topped off dinner with French vanilla ice cream smothered in a rich date and walnut sauce.

"Oooh, Francisco, I will have to jog twice as long tomorrow to repair the damage this meal has done to my diet and exercise routine," I complained with a melodramatic grimace.

He pointed a finger at me and said, "Shannon, you have youth on your side. You'll burn off the extra calories in no time. Now, me, this is a different story, and not such a happy ending," he frowned with great drama. "I will have to sacrifice a hearty lunch for at least the next two days and instead make do with a cup of soup." He shook his head in exaggerated despair.

Rosario couldn't resist putting in her word's worth. "Ah...the way you two go at it, makes me think this entire scenario was for the sole purpose of getting you two clowns together. Enough already, we have work to do." She began picking up the dishes. Zach seamlessly helped her out. While I was getting my notes together, I noticed that Alex and Francisco stepped out into the hall for a chat. In ten minutes, we were all back at the parlor table.

I handed out copies of my notes. "Okay, as I see it, I'll just go down this list aloud. Maybe we should wait until I finish to make revisions?" My gaze up from the notes met with agreeable nods from everyone. I took that as my cue.

"Beginning with May of 1888, we know that Olivia and Miguel were a married couple at that time. Then on September sixth, Miguel marries Carmelita Paez in Manizales, Colombia. And on October third, Miguel transferred command of his trade ship, the La Jolla to Captain Raul Santillo. Okay, also in that first week of October—supposedly, at least according to San Diego gossip columns of the time—Miguel caught Olivia and Eric together, here at Blackthorne House. Eyewitness accounts state that the three argued. But we don't know what the argument was about."

"That's very true," commented Rosario. "The speculation by the gossips of that time were not based on fact and may have been fictionalized to add drama. I suspect that Eric and Olivia confronted Miguel with what they knew about his life in Manizales and may have told him of Olivia's plan to have her marriage annulled."

I paused briefly to see if anyone else had something to say. "Next, we know that on October fifteenth, Olivia was granted an annulment of her marriage to Miguel based on proof he committed bigamy. A Pinkerton Agency detective provided the evidence that convicted him.

"Then, Olivia married Eric Blackthorne on October twenty-fifth. Two days later, Eric and Olivia depart by ship for San Francisco. San Francisco is the first stop of several before Olivia and Eric board a transatlantic cruise destined for Eric's ancestral home in Aberdeen, Scotland.

During the cross-country tour, Olivia writes letters home to her sister Tina. In three letters Olivia makes references to the possibility that they were being followed. Thus posing potential danger, which was of enough concern that Eric hired private security for them.

"Now, getting back to Miguel Pico... Parish records from November third indicate that Miguel died of natural causes. Yet, clergy or a doctor never examined his body. Furthermore, his remains were given into the custody of Raul Santillo, and Pico's family refused all funeral rites and service. Supposedly, Santillo was to transport Pico's remains to Manizales by order of the family. However, absolutely no proof of transporting a coffin or casket via ship is found in all the harbor master reports from the time period."

"—Therefore," added Alex, "Miguel Pico, with Santillo as his confederate, faked his death."

"I think we all agree on that point," Zach said. "Please continue Shannon."

"On November eighteenth in Manizales, thirty-eight emeralds are stolen from a jewelry shop. That same day, authorities close the harbors, but Pico's ship, under the command of Santillo, departed South America before it could be stopped. Coincidentally, this same ship, with Santillo at the helm, docks in San Diego seventeen days later. It is searched, but the emeralds are not found. And, when Santillo is asked to explain the ship's delay, he says there was a one-day delay off the coast of Baja California when he anchored the ship just off shore for emergency repair to sails.

"Forwarding to 1889, on February seventeenth

another emerald heist occurs in Manizales. This time twenty-five gemstones were taken from a bank safe. Once again, authorities closed the harbors, and once again, Pico's ship under the command of Santillo escapes. This time, though, no records are found of the ship docking anywhere near San Diego."

"Maybe they docked north of here, around Los Angeles or San Francisco?" Zach said.

"Yes, very good point, we may need to look further into that as a possibility," Francisco suggested.

"Continue, Shannon," Rosario urged.

"Actually, I'm just about finished. On April first, in Scotland, Eric performs a magic show. Olivia writes a letter to Tina that same day, after the performance. She includes with her letter a program from Eric's show and she tells Tina that she plans to return home after learning of Tina's pregnancy, which may present health problems for Tina.

"In May, Miguel Pico—very much alive in Manizales—purchases a large coffee plantation, which he names Mi Valle Esmeralda, and as Zach has pointed out, in English the name is My Emerald Valley. By the way, Pico died on his plantation at the ripe old age of eighty in 1936.

"Finally, a photo from June of 1889 shows Olivia, Tina and her tiny infant daughter Rosa, along with all three of their brothers on the ranch in Warner Springs. So we know for certain that Olivia did come back and she was here, if not before Tina gave birth, then shortly thereafter," I put down my paper and looked around the table.

Chapter 32

Alex was the first to speak, "Shannon, you've done a thorough job of sifting through everything and summarizing it this way. I, for one, and I know I'm not alone, thank you very much for making sense of it all," He gave me the most sincere smile, I almost melted on the spot.

"Yes, we all agree," Francisco said and then added, "Earlier this evening Alex and I had a chance to talk regarding funeral services for Olivia. We agree that she should be laid to rest out on the ranch in Warner Springs. By modern tradition it is an unusual arrangement, but in Olivia's time it was quite common for a family to maintain its own cemetery. And there is a family cemetery on the ranch. My brother Pedro agrees this is the best way to honor her. I will see to all legal arrangements tomorrow and we will have a small ceremony for her on Saturday morning at ten. Of course, we hope Shannon and Rosario will attend."

Zach was quick on the draw. He turned to me and said, "It would be my pleasure to have you ride with me." And then making a quick attempt at damage repair he added, "You, too Rosario."

"Why, thank you Zach," I said trying to sneak a look in Alex's direction.

"Oh, count me in," added Rosario. "Alex will you be there?"

"Regrettably, no. Over a month ago I promised a colleague I would teach his Saturday morning lecture class for him while he recuperates from surgery he had today."

"Shall we continue?" asked Francisco.

"Umm, I was wondering," I said. "Alex, were you able to find out if Eric is buried in Scotland?"

"Yes, and no, so to speak. My sister said that all she could find was a memorial stone, near the cemetery for the parish church that has records of Eric's attendance. The problem is that the memorial stone, like a plaque, is mounted on the exterior stone wall of the small graveyard." He looked down at his notes and read, "In honor of Eric Blackthorne, respected member of this parish, master magician and much beloved in our community. No records were found giving information about his death"

"You know," Rosario said, "that bit of phrasing almost sounds more like a honor wall plaque, maybe because Eric donated land or money to the parish, maybe for maintaining the grounds, or something like that."

"I don't know what to make of it, I'm perplexed. My sister went through all death notices and graveyard records, nothing turns up for Eric," Alex said.

"Umm, maybe he came back, here?" I suggested. "Maybe ship manifests from that time would indicate a passenger list. There can't be that many ports of call. We could all help look for him."

"Sure, that sounds like an idea worth following," Rosario said. "Let's see... at that time, the major ports for passenger ships were New York, Boston, New Orleans, Galveston and along our coast. I'll get right on it this coming Monday."

"I can help," I offered.

"Okay, that settles that," said Zach. "What is next on the agenda, Grandpa?"

"Before we decide what to do next, I have a few concerns," Francisco said. "I think it is possible that Miguel Pico had Olivia and Eric followed. Not to do them harm, necessarily, but to make sure they left the country. Also, I am bothered by the one-day delay Santillo claims to have taken place. That would be the perfect opportunity for him to off-load the thirty-eight emeralds to a person waiting on shore."

"Yes," Rosario interrupted, "and then there's the fact that after the second emerald heist, Pico's ship is nowhere to be found in this area."

"True, but for now," Francisco added, "maybe we should not concern ourselves with that second heist. It happened long after Olivia and Eric had left California and they were safe at the Blackthorne estate in Scotland. At least, for now, let's concentrate on other aspects."

"Like what?" Zach asked.

"Well," I said, "we need to find out when Olivia returned home to help Tina. So far, we know from the time span of the letters, that Olivia must have voyaged home between April and May in order to be here in June, as proven by the photo. My best guess, given the lengthy time of travel then, is that she arrived here in late May or early June."

"In that case," suggested Rosario, "I can research newspapers from those months. A birth announcement might mention a visiting relative."

"Excellent idea, Rosario," Alex commented, "You know, I've been meaning to ask, what about Eric's journal that was in the chest? Where did it come from?"

"Oh, darn!" Rosario exclaimed with a scowl of admonishment. "Aren't I just the most forgetful thing on this planet! Every time someone brings up that journal I keep forgetting to tell you that it was I who found it and put it in the chest. The first week when I was scouting out this place, I located it way in the back of the old pantry closet off the kitchen. Well, that closet had been boarded up, probably because of water damage, and I found it. I'm so sorry."

"Quite okay, Rosario," Alex said trying to comfort her. "No harm done and I'm glad you put it in the chest. But what about the two secret messages we found?"

Francisco had watched the exchange between Rosario and Alex with a gentle smile on his face, now, at the mention of the notes, he perked up and turned to Alex. "Ah, yes, the notes written in a secret code. Alex, the cape that was in the chest in which the last note was discovered... in your opinion, is it the type of cape used exclusively by a magician while performing?"

"Definitely. That cape served no purpose other than use on the stage. It has the secreted wide panels used to hide props in. In fact, no magician of professional standing would be caught dead in a stage cape off the stage."

Francisco drummed his fingers lightly on the table... "I thought as much. Based on that fact, could it be that Eric did return here to San Diego. Perhaps, he performed while in town. And on the day or night of his performance, Olivia was also in town, or on her way here?"

"—And Pico was here," I blurted out, "he came here after learning that Eric would be here performing. And Pico was troubled that Olivia and or Eric knew something incriminating about his illegal adventures, so he killed them!"

My outburst sure got their attention. They stared at me as if I had just landed in a spaceship and was some type of alien life form.

"Whoa, Shannon," Zach cautioned, "No wonder you're such a good writer. What an imagination you have!"

"Actually," Francisco said in a very clam voice, "Shannon and I are of like minds. I have a hunch she isn't too far from the truth. However, before we jump to too many conclusions, we need to decide what to do next."

By the time we had said our good-nights we had a tentative plan to talk again after the Saturday funeral service. We needed another break in the case. I know we were counting on finding out more about Eric's possible return and Olivia's time frame for when she came back. What with our schedules, no one, including me, would have time to do more investigating until next week.

Exhausted, I went to bed promising myself to sleep on all my concerns and wake up refreshed after a restful night's sleep. But thundering horses wouldn't let it be.

Chapter 33

Before turning off the lights, I sat in bed a while and read from an old book that had belonged to my mother, one of the very few personal items that survived the fire at my home. It was a collection of columns written in my mother's era by a humorist named Erma Bombeck. This was some of the funniest and most lighthearted material ever written. Bombeck had a way of extracting the funny side from life's most ho-hum situations. I always thought of her as the Mark Twain of her era: insightful, witty and embracing a frame of reference that everyone could relate to. Reading her musings brought back to mind the best times I shared with my mom. I turned off my night-light and went to sleep with good memories.

Thunder woke me up. Sitting straight up in bed, I listened... was that really thunder I heard? It seemed faint and yet my bed trembled from the rumbling. An earthquake? I looked around my room, nothing was shaking. In darkness I couldn't see much and when I reached for my table lamp, the switch broke. The rumbling grew louder and louder; I was deafened from it! I jumped out of bed and grabbed my flashlight. Now the floor was vibrating from the ear splitting noise. Never in a million years could I imagine this was happening. A tornado? In California? My mind desperately sought logic for an explanation. Rolling thunder, like a million horses, was drumming down on me.

Suddenly, the clamor halted. The silence was eerie, electrified. I could feel every hair on my arms standing on end. I started to get back into bed, but was nearly scared to death when a resounding knock rattled at my bedroom door.

Good God! What do I do now?

Again, the booming knock banged on my door. It didn't sound human, too cumbersome.

Again and again, heavy singular knocks. Then it occurred to me, hey this must be a dream, answer the door, dummy, if you want the dream to go away. So I opened the door.

A horse stood there. Well, no wonder the knocking sounds were oddly heavy and singular! I stared at the horse, trying to memorize every little detail: Okay, it is sorta white, actually grayer than stark white, tall, healthy looking, dark eyes and feathers. Hmm... No hair... just feathers. Well, okay, other than being a feathered horse, it looks almost normal.

"Nice horsy." I said.

"Dreams are answers to questions we have yet to ask," said the horse in a very familiar sounding male voice that I couldn't identify."

The horse turned around and left. I didn't step out into the hall, a gut feeling warned me that I didn't need to know how the horse would negotiate the stairs and exit out the front door. I crawled back into bed and slept like a baby for the rest of the night.

I awoke the next morning to the aroma of coffee. No dream could smell this inviting, I knew Rosario must have decided to come early for breakfast. I dressed quickly and went down to the kitchen.

"Good morning, dear. I hope you slept well? "Sorta," I mumbled, "At least after the horse left my bedroom, I slept like a baby."

"Uh-Oh! Shannon, are you having bad dreams, again?"

I related to her my dream as we ate eggs and bacon with rye toast.

"Tell me again, what the horse said to you?" Rosario asked.

"He said, and by the way, it was a male voice," I clarified, "The exact words were: Dreams are answers to questions we have yet to ask."

"Hmmm... that sounds familiar, like something from an old TV show. Shannon, didn't you used to watch that sci-fi show called the X-Files?"

"Sure did, when I was in school, never missed an episode."

"Well, if you do a quotation search on the Internet, I bet you'll discover it was from that show. Now, as for the feathered horse..." Rosario smiled brightly, "Why, that's just plain Horsefeathers!"

"Huh?"

"Horsefeathers! Oh, it's an old-fashioned saying, an exclamation phrase for describing pure nonsense. I think that horse, or at least your subconscious, was trying to help you relax."

"Then... Rosario, you don't believe that dreams are a subconscious effort to solve problems?"

"I didn't say that, it could be true. I think it is more likely that dreams are used as a way to come to terms with strong emotions. And, Shannon, we were dealing with strong feelings last night. The very concept of trying to solve a grisly murder from over a century ago is enough to cause nightmares for anyone. I know, I took to heart how Olivia must have died, I bet you did, too."

"True, that has been on my mind. I was wondering..." I nibbled thoughtfully on my last bites of toast. "How is it that the forensic team made a positive identification? Can they be sure that the remains are Olivia's?"

Rosario looked up at me and waved her fork in the air, "That was my concern, too. Because I am the executive of the Blackthorne B&B project, Francisco gave me a copy of the forensic reports. I'm confident they identified her correctly. You see, besides the locket she was wearing, the same one that showed up in photos, she also had a unique wedding ring that Eric gave her, it was also in photos. It is a lovely gold ring with the imprint of a thistle... the official flower of Scotland. And come to find out, when Olivia was a teenager, she broke her right leg, midway between knee and ankle, in a horse-riding accident. That leg healed with telltale bone scars and it made her right leg about one inch shorter."

"It is a relief to know what happened to her. Now her family can have closure. I'm looking forward to her service tomorrow. It gives me comfort to finally lay her to rest."

"I feel that way, too," Rosario agreed. "I can't stay long this morning. I have too much paperwork stacked on my desk. What will you do today?" "Oh, I have a few edits and revisions to make. Then, I'll go over to the mall and pick up some flowers to take tomorrow. Maybe rent a movie for later today."

Rosario got up, reached over to the counter to get her purse and then gave me hug. "Sounds like a wonderful plan. Try to relax today. And you're very thoughtful to bring flowers, that is a lovely gesture. Now, as for a movie... choose something fun, a romantic comedy or such, a story with a happy ending!"

I smiled and walked my favorite nun to the front door. "About tomorrow, Zach is picking me up first, then we'll stop by and get you."

"I'll be ready, early, right?"

"Yeah, Zach will be here about seven. He said not to worry about eating, that his family is hosting a large brunch after the service."

"Okay, see you tomorrow, dear."

I waited until I saw her car go around the corner, then I moseyed back inside just in time to catch the phone before the message machine got it. It was Alex; he called to ask me to dinner. I don't know why, but I declined with a small fib... I told him I thought I was coming down with a cold and I needed to rest in order to feel up to the trip to the ranch tomorrow. In truth, I was out of sorts from my strange night, but I wasn't up to explaining my dream and how it rattled me so much. Thank goodness, Alex didn't press me for more of an explanation.

Chapter 34

As we drove away from San Diego and into the back country the city gave way to rolling hills and distant mountains. Every cowboy movie I'd ever seen had this same landscape. Warner Springs was quintessential Old West. It came as no surprise to me that Uncle Pedro's home was a large rambling adobe hacienda with numerous ranch outbuildings behind it, including a barn, carriage house and stables, and a garage. To the left were several horse corrals with dozens of horses. Directly behind the hacienda was a large tile-paved patio, beautifully appointed with an old-fashion tiered circular waterfall fountain. A quarter of a mile away, to the right of the property, up on a grassy knoll bordered with old oak trees was the family cemetery. Zach pulled his car up to a parking area at the bottom of the knoll. It was a short walking distance up the manicured walkway.

"Brrr... I'm glad I wore a long coat. Shannon are you warm enough in that jacket?" asked Rosario.

"I'm fine. This blustery weather isn't what I expected, especially considering how mild it was in the city."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Zach said. "It's wide open country out here, it's almost as if it has its own weather system." Looking up ahead as we approached the top, Zach took my arm and whispered to me, "Looks like everyone is here. I'll introduce you and Rosario after the ceremony, when we gather back at the house."

I nodded and stayed close to him. Rosario turned away from us and walked over to an older couple. Stepping in close to them, she whispered something, they acknowledged her and then she stepped a little off to their right, and stood next to Francisco. Zach leaned in close to me and whispered in my ear, "That's Uncle Pedro and his wife, Aunt Sally. Next to them is their family minister."

Earlier that morning Olivia's casket had been lowered into the open grave. The minister took a couple steps up closer to the gravesite and read a brief statement on behalf of the Zavala family. Much to my surprise, Rosario stepped forward and said: "It is with deepest regret that Alex Blackthorne could not be here today. Alex's ancestor, Eric Blackthorne was husband to Olivia. I saw Alex yesterday and in honor of this service he has asked me to read the following prayer:

"O Lord, support us all the day long, until shadows lengthen, and the evening comes, and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then in thy mercy, grant us safe lodging and a holy rest... and peace at last. Amen."

Uncle Pedro and Aunt Sally led the procession away from the gravesite and down the hill. Francisco and Rosario were next, and then Zach and I followed. Gathered in the small parking area I realized there were about twenty-five people, it didn't seem like that many when we were standing around at the gravesite. In the same order as the walking procession, the crowd got into vehicles and drove the short distance to Uncle Pedro's home.

Zach and I entered the hacienda last, only because I asked Zach to stay in the car and point out to me the people as they got out of their cars and walked up to the house. He teased me about my technique for learning names, but said he understood how it can be nerve racking to meet so many people at one time, "But don't worry about remembering names. I guarantee that after the first five minutes you won't feel like a stranger."

Zach was right. I had a wonderful time. His family and their friends went out of their way to make me feel at home. By the end of the day I felt at ease and truly welcomed. After eating my fill from the buffet I walked over to the living room windows to take in the wide-open vista. I could see the cemetery knoll and realized that it was a very lovely and peaceful site. Mountains in the near distance formed a sentry around the land. The knoll was centered in a horseshoe shaped valley, and the home was centered in the horseshoe opening.

Zach walked up behind me with such quiet, I hadn't noticed him until I heard him, "Spectacular view," he whispered.

I turned, smiled and nodded. Zach's right arm encircled my waist and he nudged me ever so slightly to the right, "Look over there," he pointed with his left hand, directing my attention to a short row of trees near the bottom of the knoll. "That's where our pets are buried. It's an animal cemetery."

"You're joking," I whispered and nudged my left elbow into his side.

"No, I'm not kidding, it is a graveyard for pets. It has to do with a fire that happened during the time Tina lived here and Olivia was visiting. An old barn was near there, a small one, where Tina's favorite animals were kept. An old goat, a couple of dogs and an old draft horse and some rabbits in hutches. The barn caught on fire, burned to the ground. Except for her dogs, all the animals perished in the fire."

"How sad. I guess barn fires were common then?" "Not especially, at least not here. Uncle Pedro has always said that the fire was deliberate. But the arsonist was never caught. Anyway, because those animals were Tina's favorites, the family created that little cemetery for them."

"Hmm... I understand that rabbits in hutches would have been trapped, but why didn't the goat and horse run away like the dogs did?"

"The dogs weren't tethered or in a pen. The goat and horse were companions of a sort; an odd couple if ever there was one. The horse was nearly blind and although the goat was old, it had good eyesight. During daylight, the horse followed the goat around the yard and at night they were kept in a large stall together for fear the horse my get out, stumble and fall."

"I think it's sweet that they have their own resting place." I turned to face Zach; his arm was still around my waist.

"Yeah, it is." Zach's voice was low and soft. "Maybe—"

"—Zach, Shannon, there you two are. The crowd is breaking up. Perhaps it's time to leave?" Sometimes—much to my disappointment—Rosario had the uncanny knack of interrupting at the most inopportune moments!

Chapter 35

The next day I went to an early mass with Rosario, afterward, we parted ways. She had some office work to do and I wanted to spend the day in Old Town doing some souvenir shopping for friends back in Chicago. After picking up some knick-knacks, key chains and tea towels I took a coffee break at a corner café. Checking my list, the only souvenirs I had left to get were for my Aunt Sheila and the darlings in her life, her three Maine coon cats: Roscoe, Rosie and Ruben. Hmm... I pondered, what can I get for cats? I paid my bill, left a tip and on the way out asked the waiter if he knew of a gift store for pets in the area. He'd forgotten the name of the shop, but gave me clear directions on how to get to it: one street down, turn right and around the corner... an easy stroll in a less crowded part of Old Town.

So... one street down, I turned right and just around the corner I found the store, no mistaking the shop. It was named Horsefeathers!

I walked in and was immediately offered assistance by a young woman wearing an apron that advertised From whiskers to tail, we have what your pet craves, just ask me!

"Hi," I said, "I'm in the market for is a few cat toys that can be easily packaged and mailed."

"Right this way," she said with a smile. I followed her to an area off the side of the front desk to a well-organized eye level display of small bins stocked with more cat toys than I had ever seen in any store, even stores twice the size of this one.

"Wow, this is quite a selection. Thanks, I'm sure I'll find what I'm looking for."

"The prices are posted just above on the wall. Well, let me know if you need anything else, I'll be right up front."

I rummaged through the selection of furry mice, fuzzy balls and feathered things that had a vague alien-from-Mars appearance. Knowing how much Maine coon kitties like to use their paws to pick up toys and bat them around, I decided on the tried-and-true fuzzy balls. I picked out a handful and looked above the display for prices, but it was a curious assortment of old photos and captions posted on the wall that caught my attention.

The title above the photos read: A Few of San Diego's Famous Four-legged Residents. I stepped closer to get a good look; some of the photos were really old. I found one about San Diego's unofficial canine mayor of the 1800's, that lovable rascal Bum. Another story, without a photo, but with a pencil sketch, told the story of a man name Joshua Sloane and his dog, Mr. Patrick who lived in Old Town in the mid-1800's. Seems that they were quite a colorful pair, Sloane even put Mr. Patrick to work on the city's payroll as assistant to the harbor master, in charge of collecting fees. Of course, Sloane was the harbor master! Then there was a duck named Lucky that someone had rescued from a well. Seems that Lucky turned out to be a better guard dog than the dog in the family after the quacker shooed off a couple of wannabe burglars. At the far end was a photo titled Odd Couple. It was a light gray horse and black goat. The caption read: Pegasus the horse and his loyal friend Nanny, the goat is shown here on the Zavala ranch in Warner Springs. Until recently, Pegasus was a familiar visitor to Old Town. His mistress, Tina Zavala explained that Pegasus' eyesight has failed to the degree that he can no longer take a saddle or a hitch. Nanny, the goat, has taken to leading the near-blind horse around in a protected area of the ranch. The odd pair is comfortably ensconced in a small barn reserved for pets. Other than his eyesight, Pegasus is in good health for an elderly horse and he and Nanny are best of friends.

A few inches below the story, a photocopy of a short news article said: It is with great sadness that the Zavala family of Warner Springs reports to us that Pegasus the horse and Nanny the goat died four days ago in an unfortunate fire that burned down their barn. Along with Pegasus and Nanny, several pet rabbits died. Three dogs survived. The Zavala family reports that the cause of fire is suspicious and the family is offering a reward. See Sheriff for details. Three days ago, Pegasus and Nanny were laid to rest near the barn site in a cemetery created especially for them. The date of the article was June twentieth, 1889.

Excited about this discovery, I grabbed more fuzzy balls and approached the clerk. When I asked her if I could get copies of the photos and newspaper articles about Pegasus and Nanny, she hemmed and hawed. But when I explained I wanted them for additions to the official history of Blackthorne House and that I would mention her store in my credits, she enthusiastically agreed. She took the articles and photos off the wall and told me to wait just a minute while she made copies in her office at the rear of the store. I left the pet store knowing I had bought more cat toys than I had originally intended, but I also knew I got way more than my money's worth in what I was taking home!

Chapter 36

As soon as I got home I gave Rosario a call, "Hey, you won't believe what I discovered in Old Town!"

"Shannon, really, at this time of day, and me being up to my neck in paperwork the parish administrator left undone, I haven't got time for guessing games!"

"Oh, okay, but you're taking the fun out of my discovery," I teased. "I found a shop called Horsefeathers," I drew out the name of the shop, just to get her attention.

"Well, that is a coincidence. What is so special about it?"

"Horsefeathers! Rosario, remember my dream?"

"Yes, yes dear, I remember your dream. A gray horse, a rhyme about finding answers or some such nonsense. Shannon, what does a shop in Old Town have to do with our investigation?"

"Inside the shop I came across some old photos, about pets, and there was this photo of a gray horse named Pegasus... get it? You know, the Greek mythical horse with feathered wings?"

"Okay. And?"

"The horse and its good buddy, a black goat named Nanny were killed in a fire on the Zavala ranch. Rosario, the article was dated June twentieth, 1889! Don't you see, this fits into the time frame and it makes perfect sense of my dream?"

"Well... Shannon, I don't know... What you're talking about is interesting, but how it fits into anything we are investigating..."

"Oh, I know it sounds crazy, but by the time we all meet again for a discussion, I'll have it figured out. You'll see."

"Good, you do that dear. And by the way, I've talked with Francisco and Zach, and we are planning to meet on Tuesday, a little bit earlier this time, around fivish. I'll make stew and cornbread. Zach said he'd bring dessert."

"Oh, good, but that only gives us tomorrow to do research on Eric and Olivia and whatever else we talked about."

"Yes, about that. The reason I'm up to my neck today in work is that I've managed to get tomorrow and Tuesday off. Such as it is... I'll handle the newspapers and archives research. Instead of you helping, please run some errands for me."

"Sure, Rosario. What can I do?"

"First, the ad agency needs to meet with you to get approval on layout and such. Good grief! They wanted me to do that. I told them no way, that you have the final say-so. Now, once you finish with them, please stop by the drapery makers and check on the fabric that came in. I specifically told them it must be a hunter green and a heavy weight damask. Okay?"

"No problem. Uh, what about Alex? Will he be here on Tuesday?"

"Oh! Thank goodness you reminded me! I've called him three times in the last two hours. I get his voice mail every time. So, please try getting hold of him and let him know about the Tuesday meeting. Make sure he knows he doesn't need to bring anything. Bless his heart, he is always offering. Oh, and tell him to bring Atlas along if he likes. I think he's a bit hesitant about doing that, but we all like that big guy, such a pleasant dog... Francisco asks about him all the time. I guess it's the Zavala inclination, their such animal lovers, that whole family is."

"Oh, I'll be sure to tell Alex that Atlas has a special invite to be with us," I couldn't help but to giggle.

"Oh, and Shannon... I'll be coming in tomorrow afternoon to spend the night there. That way I can get up early Tuesday morning and shop for dinner. It takes all afternoon to make a good stew."

"Sounds good Rosario, I look forward to helping out, like old times."

"Yes, dear, like old times."

Chapter 37

Rosario assigning me to do errands instead of wading through tons of newspaper archives was more than okay with me. I was happy not to spend tomorrow in a windowless archive room in the basement of the local newspaper headquarters. Been there, done that!

In order to make my Horsefeathers dream and my discovery about the fire at the ranch mesh with everyone at Tuesday's meeting, I knew I needed to get my dream and eerie experience clues in some kind of order or summary. I didn't want to tell everyone about my odd dreams and haunting experiences... but somehow I needed to convey the importance of their meaning, and my Old Town discovery, coupled with the photocopies I got was the kind of evidence that would help me. I decided to summarize the details of these weird happenings, just as I had done with the hard evidence. But this time, the list was for my eyes, only.

I sat at the kitchen table, it afforded a nice view from which I could stare out at the clear blue sky and let my recollections be my muse. After thirty minutes of musing, I had a list:

First Eerie Experience, Day Two: Eric's ghost tells me to follow your heart.

Second Eerie Experience, Day Five: Steam message on bathroom mirror says to follow your heart.

First Dream, Day Ten: The crow dream... called my attention to the crow picture tile on the wall upstairs. The tile is a Victorian era riddle to which the answer is twenty stones, the exact number of zanja stepping stones that led from front of garage to hidden cellar where Olivia's remains were found.

Second Dream, Day Sixteen: Horsefeathers dream. Light gray horse with feathers says to me: dreams are answers to questions we have yet to ask. Then, at a shop called Horsefeathers I find a newspaper photo and article evidence of a horse named Pegasus, same name as the mythological horse with feathered wings, and is in fact the horse that belonged to Tina Zavala. Horse died, along with his Nanny goat friend, in a suspicious fire at the Zavala ranch. Date of article is June twentieth, 1889 and it states that the fire was four days prior (June sixteenth) and the animals were buried three days before the article (June seventeenth).

Summary: Both dreams have led me to concrete facts and discoveries. Yet, nothing has come to pass from my two haunted experiences! WHY?

Staring down at my list, I shook my head and mused... what's with the messages, Eric?

Perhaps, follow your heart is a line of lyrics from a popular song of a century ago. If so, why wasn't I hearing the tune? Hmm... I wonder if Alex would know? Maybe he would remember some telltale clue related to heart shaped themes from his childhood here at Blackthorne House... some clue along the same lines as the crow riddle? Better give Alex a call.

My luck at getting in touch with Alex was none better than Rosario's attempts. I tried several times that afternoon and evening. Finally, at eight I left my last message on his machine telling him to plan on being here Tuesday for a meeting and not to call unless he can't make the meeting.

I went to bed annoyed about not being able to reach Alex. I'm sure that frustration set the mood for the next dream...

Again, thundering hooves woke me up. Ah-ha! I knew exactly what to do. I jumped out of bed and opened the door. Sure enough, there was the feathered horse, just as before.

"Hello Pegasus, so good of you to visit, again," I smiled and gestured him into my room.

"I've brought a friend," He was a horse of few words.

"Ha! Let me guess..." I held my right hand up, with my index finger in the air... it was an eureka moment, "...her name is Nanny?"

Of course, wouldn't you know it, a black goat peeked out from Pegasus' tail and stepped forward into my bedroom. "Baaah... very pleased to make your acquaintance," said Nanny as she curtsied ever so politely. Small silver bells around her neck tinkled a little melody, just like the jingle bells I used to wear on my shoelaces at Christmas time when I was little.

"And it is my pleasure to meet you," I curtsied in return. "Perchance Nanny, do you have a message for me?"

"No, but I do," Pegasus stepped slightly forward, careful not to overshadow Nanny. "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. If turnips were watches, I'd wear one by my side." He took a gentlemanly bow and backed out of my room.

That was when Nanny turned and looked me straight in the face, she tilted her head a bit to the left and said, "Follow your heart," in a singsong female voice without a hint of a bleating sound.

I awoke the next morning feeling as if I had slept like a baby, sound and peaceful all night through. Of course, I knew differently. Sitting up in bed I grabbed the small note pad from my side table and jotted down a detailed account of my dream. I would need to add it to my list. But enough of dreams, I brushed the cobweb thoughts away and got ready for a busy day of errands.

Chapter 38

I spent Monday in such a frenzied blur of activity that it wasn't until Tuesday I had a chance to exhale and reconnect with my immediate world. It was waking up to the tantalizing aroma of Rosario's coffee that brought me back to reality.

I padded down stairs in my slippers and robe and followed my nose into the kitchen.

"Good morning sleeping beauty," Rosario handed me a cup of coffee.

I sat down and rubbed my face, trying to persuade my eyes to open. "I don't remember ever sleeping this long, at least not since I've been here. I don't remember you coming in yesterday," I looked up at Rosario; she sat across from me wide-awake and perky.

"I got here later than I expected. It was about nine last night; you were already in bed. Obviously, the errands I sent you on ran you ragged. Must say, though, I sure am pleased with the results," Rosario tapped her right fist on the portfolio I'd left on the table last night.

I peeked up at Rosario. She was beaming. "I know why you sent me. The brochure layout was all wrong. I spent the better half of the day at their office redesigning it."

"Yes, I can tell by this mock-up. Shannon, this is gorgeous!"

"And on the subject of gorgeous, did you see the drapery fabric swatches I brought back... there here somewhere..." I looked around.

"Oh, I found them right here. Took them up to the tower room, tacked them up by the window. They're lovely, exactly what I hoped for." Rosario got up and gave me refills on coffee. "I must say, after the troubleshooting you did yesterday, the powers that be at the parish may not want to let you go. Ever considered being an innkeeper, Shannon?"

"No way! I'm not that much of a people person."

"Oh, well, it was only a thought." Rosario sat down.

"To change the subject," I couldn't resist giving her a coy smile; "Did Alex call?"

"No," Rosario shook her head to emphasize the negative. "You weren't able to get a hold of him?"

"Huh-uh. At eight, before I gave in and went to bed, I left a message on his voice mail. I told him to call only if he wasn't gong to be at the meeting."

"Oh, then no phone call from Alex is a good thing." Rosario dismissed my concern with a smile. "I'm going to be busy in the kitchen most of the day. Would you mind going to the florist? I'd love a few mixed-flower bouquets to brighten things up around here."

"Oh, so now, I'm the flower girl?" I chided.

"Pretty as a posy... that's how your dad always described you. A leisurely trip to buy flowers will put you in a good mood."

"Okay. It'll be good to get out and do something fun."

Rosario was right. A few hours out on a mission to get flowers was a nice change of pace and scenery. I arrived home in a better mood and my arms were filled with bouquets. Rosario commanded ownership of the flowers as soon as I stepped inside the parlor.

"Oooh... Shannon, these flowers are beautiful! I'll get them into arrangements right away. Now you run upstairs and freshen up. We have just enough time."

I looked at my watch, "You're right. I didn't realize I was cutting the time so close. Everyone will be here in about thirty minutes."

I dashed upstairs took a quick shower and changed into new pair of jeans and my favorite heather green v-neck cashmere sweater. Brushing my hair back into a loose ponytail I felt relaxed, pretty and confident. I grabbed my notes and headed downstairs.

I followed voices into the kitchen. There, helping Rosario was Francisco standing by the stove stirring the stew. And Zach, he was sitting at the table folding napkins. The sight of the those two men in apron mode—well—I couldn't resist a tease, "Never would I have guessed that you two had a domestic nature!"

"Yeah, didn't grandpa tell you he's addicted to cooking shows on daytime TV?" Zach laughed.

"Oh, yes," Francisco stopped stirring for a minute, and turned to face me, "and Zachary has been taking evening classes in oragami."

'Til now, Rosario had been content to watch while she set out biscuits and butter—"Oh! Enough of you three!" She fluttered like a hen scolding chicks. "Let's ladle the stew into the tureen. Zach, you and Shannon set the table."

Zach and I took the place settings into the parlor. Rosario's flowers added the right touch to our dinner presentation. She had arranged the flowers in three vase bowls, and set them in an oval pattern with short hurricane candles placed in-between. The ambience was country chic. We took our seats. Zach sat immediately to my right, Rosario next to him and then Francisco. One place setting between Francisco and I was reserved for Alex. I looked at the vacancy. "It's barely five, shall we wait for Alex?"

Rosario looked around at each of us, "I think we should eat, there's more than enough here to feed twice as many people. When Alex gets here, he won't go hungry."

We finished dinner and were debating about whether or not to have dessert now or wait a while. Zach had brought a cherry pie with vanilla ice cream to top it off. A tempting treat that we decided we should wait on. Alex had not arrived or called. I think we were getting a little worried, but none of us would voice our concerns.

Francisco and Rosario cleared the dishes. I set my notes on the table, and carefully placed my note pad over them. I didn't want prying eyes to see them before I was ready to introduce my ideas. Rosario and Francisco came back with coffee for everyone. We got settled around the table and Francisco began.

"Let's start. When Alex comes in we will summarize our talk. Zach, would you take notes, this time?"

"Sure, I brought my note pad." Zach set out a yellow legal pad.

Francisco turned to Rosario and asked, "What did you find out?"

Chapter 39

Rosario looked down and at her page of notes, adjusted her half glasses so they were perched on the tip of her nose... she always reminded me of Mother Goose when she wore her specs that way.

"I researched newspapers and shipping records and this is what I found out for the year of 1889. Olivia returned to San Diego on June tenth. Originally she made port in San Francisco with Eric on June third. Eric stayed there to perform on June tenth and twelfth. Meanwhile, Olivia rode from San Francisco to here on the ship Pacific Destiny, owned and captained by her cousin Stephen Zavala. I don't know when Eric arrived here, or even if he ever made it to San Diego. And, no records regarding ships, trains or stagecoaches indicate that Olivia and Eric left here, separately or together," Rosario took her specs off.

"I have the story on Eric," Francisco spoke up. "Eric performed in San Diego on June sixteenth. I discovered this while researching old police reports. On that same day a report indicated that an odd incident occurred two hours before his performance that evening. A transient vegetable cart vendor claimed to have parked his cart at the back of the theater and when he left it momentarily, his donkey kicked over an oil lantern and ignited a fire. Luckily, a theater maintenance crew was on the scene to extinguish the fire before anything was damaged. The theater manager and Eric Blackthorne were interviewed. Eric stated he was at the theater setting up for his performance and was not aware of the commotion. Neither Eric or the manager had ever seen the vegetable vendor before nor had reason to suspect him of foul play. Thus, the vendor, named T. G. Smith, was reprimanded and warned. He doesn't turn up in any other police reports for the time period."

"By any chance, was Mr. Smith selling turnips?" I asked

"Curious question, Shannon, but as a matter of fact, turnips and squash were mentioned as his primary produce."

"Turnips—" Rosario interjected "—Now that's a true testimony that one can grow typically very seasonal crops on a year-round basis here in California!"

Zach nudged me and said, "How did you know that, really, turnips?"

"Just a guess," I smiled.

"Anything else, Francisco?" Rosario asked.

"Yes. My hunch that Miguel Pico was in town at that time was incorrect. However, his partner, Captain Santillo was here. In fact, he reported that some of his cargo had been stolen after making dock. The cargo in question was a jeweler's case of twelve expensive gold pocket watches complete with matching chains and fobs. Evidently, the stolen watches were never recovered.

"And another curious report was filed by Olivia. She reported that on her trip from Warner Springs into San Diego her carriage was followed by a man on horseback. The report doesn't give a description of the horseback rider or the date of her trip, but the date on the report is June fifteenth. No mention of Olivia is found after June fifteenth and no mention of Eric after June sixteenth," Francisco put his notes aside and looked to Zach.

Zach took the cue, "This is my summary, so far: Santillo was in town during the time Olivia and Eric were here. Santillo reports a theft of gold pocket watches. The watches were not recovered. A vegetable vendor, by all accounts, a stranger in San Diego, started a fire that could have damaged the theater were Eric was performing. Olivia reported being followed. No mention of Olivia after June fifteenth. No mention of Eric after June sixteenth," Zach looked at Francisco.

"That sums it up. Good job, Zach," Rosario said.

We all nodded our heads in quiet contemplation of the facts before us. I shuffled my papers and struggled with what to do next. Finally, I couldn't contain my thoughts another moment. "What if..." I stole a peek at my notes "... in order to attend Eric's show, Olivia traveled to San Diego from the ranch, noticed she was being followed—that was when she filed the report—then, that could mean her murderer was waiting for the right time. He waited and watched. On the day of Eric's performance, Olivia stayed home until actual curtain time, no reason for her to go to the theater early, and that was when she was murdered. The murderer saw Eric leave and knew Olivia was alone in the house. She, unsuspectingly, opened the door when the murderer knocked!"

Rosario was quick to pick up on my lead. "Yes, yes! Maybe it was Santillo who was the murderer! Maybe while the Blackthornes were in Scotland, he was using their home has a hideaway and that's why the smuggled emeralds were in the house. He probably thought that when Eric and Olivia left for Scotland, they'd never come back!"

Zach caught our frame of thought... "Yeah, what if he, the murderer, stashed the emeralds in Eric's magician's chest after Eric and Olivia left for Scotland. And when he discovered they were back in San Diego, that was an unexpected obstacle, so he broke into the home to get the emeralds from the chest and Olivia found him! Then he tried to make her fool Eric with the bogus message, but Olivia knew how to write a secret message and she put a note in with the emeralds for Eric to find, hoping the chest would be shipped off to Scotland. Maybe she tried to escape and that was when the murderer put her in the cellar!"

"Good Grief!" exclaimed Rosario. "That would mean that Olivia was locked up in the cellar for many days. Eric surely would have found her."

"Not if Eric never made it home," Zach said. "What if Eric was ambushed on his way home? Maybe that vegetable vendor was just a decoy, or the one who killed him. Any cart large enough to be pulled by a donkey could hide a body!"

"Or," I reasoned, "if we are to believe the last entry in Eric's journal... He did come back home after the performance and for some reason believed that Olivia may have betrayed him. Remember, he wrote that he would die haunted by her love. Maybe he was led to believe that she left him! And even if he was here, and she was already locked up in the cellar out back, he wouldn't hear her screams!"

"Or," Rosario added, "maybe he did hear her and went out back to investigate and in the cloak of darkness, the murderer was waiting for him and killed him on the spot!"

Francisco held up his hands in the time-out signal that football coaches use. "Whoa, everyone is jumping to conclusions. Some of this makes good sense. But if this is the case, that would mean that Santillo or an accomplice came back sometime later and put rattle snakes in the cellar. That is quite plausible, especially if no one, including Eric, was around to search for Olivia. But, if this scenario is true, then where is Eric?"

"Where is Eric?" I echoed. "I can't be sure, and I can't even begin to explain why I have this hunch, but wherever he is, it has something to do with horses, beggars, and watches!"

That got everyone's attention. Zach gently placed his hand on my shoulder, "Shannon, maybe this investigation is causing you too much worry?"

Francisco looked at me and in a quiet voice said, "You have dreams that give you clues?"

"Yes," I admitted.

"I thought so. From the moment I met you, you reminded me of my cousin Selma. She had that gift, too. Unfortunately, she took it to her grave and she never really understood how her dreams could help, instead of hinder." Francisco reached over and patted my hand. "Shannon, your dreams are a gift, as long as they do not cause you harm; you must not turn away from them. And if ever, even for a slight moment, you become afraid of a dream, you must tell me. You must promise to tell me, or I will not leave here tonight."

I had tears swelling in my eyes. Rosario handed me a tissue. "I promise."

"Now," Rosario spoke up, "we must concentrate on finding Eric Blackthorne. Shannon's dream clues are a good place to begin. But in the meantime, where is Alex?"

"When was the last time anyone heard from or saw Alex?" asked Francisco.

"I spoke with him on the phone last Friday afternoon," I offered.

"And I saw him that same day. That was when he stopped by my office to give me the prayer he asked me to read," Rosario said.

"Not one of us has had contact with him since then?" asked Francisco. "This being the case, first thing tomorrow I will stop by his house. Depending on what I find there, I may go to the university where he teaches. Does anyone have the phone number of his sister in Scotland?"

Rosario spoke, "Yes, I do. Should I call her?"

"Not yet," cautioned Francisco. "We do not want to cause her undue concern. Will the three of you be in town tomorrow?"

"Not me," said Zach. "I'll be over on Santa Catalina Island for the next two days. It's business. I'm putting in a bid to restore on an old mansion over there. The owners live in Santa Monica and recently inherited the place, it's been vacant for a decade or so."

"Oh, Zach, that's wonderful news," Rosario was genuinely pleased. "I'll say a prayer that you get the contract. But, I'll be here and so will Shannon, won't you dear?"

I nodded my agreement.

"Okay, I will stop in tomorrow to let you know what I find out. Now, let's have dessert!" proclaimed Francisco. We all agreed. It was a relief to take part in something so ordinary as dessert.

Chapter 40

I woke the next morning with the intention to bide my time tying up loose ends on the publicity plan for launching an Internet site for Blackthorne House Inn. I worked on my computer in my room, listening to Rosario and a work crew of drapery hangers bump around upstairs in the tower room. I kept listening for the doorbell to chime... hoping it would be Francisco with news about Alex. Except for the noise generated from the tower room, the house was quiet. By ten, I was ready for a morning break. I moseyed up to the tower room.

The door was open. Rosario was standing at the large window; two men were on ladders on each side, holding a valance rod up... "A little higher, please. Yes, right about there. Let's measure it, I want the valance rod exactly fifteen inches up from the window top."

I knocked on the door frame, "Anyone ready for a coffee break?"

Rosario turned to me, "Just a moment, Shannon." And then turned around, looked up and said, "Yes, that is perfect! Thank you so much. Would you gentleman care for a cup of coffee and some cherry pie?"

The two men looked down at her with smiles. The older one spoke for both, "Yes, thank you."

"Oh, good," Rosario said. "Let's all go down to the kitchen."

I told them I'd put the coffee on. As I turned to leave, I heard Rosario telling the men where the bathroom was for washing up. By the time we were all in the kitchen, I had the pie served up on plates and mugs of coffee poured. The men asked if they could eat outside in the back at the picnic table. Rosario showed them the way.

"They seem like nice fellows and very competent," I remarked.

"Oh, to be sure. It's a father and son team. Gerry's the dad, that is his youngest son, Rick with him today. Makes no difference though as to which of his four sons are helping, the entire family is the most reliable and competent work crew we've ever had."

"Are they doing the wallpaper hanging, too?"

"Yes. They did the interior painting as well. I wouldn't have any other crew do it as long as they're available," Rosario said.

I nodded agreement. I can remember the headaches my parents used to have over not finding reliable home repair and improvement contractors. We ate in silence. Gerry and his son came back in, thanked us for the snack and went back up to the tower room.

"I wonder when we'll hear from Francisco?" I asked.

"Soon, I hope."

I nodded. "Rosario, I know you know Alex far better than I do... Is it possible Alex's disappearance has anything to do with the emeralds?"

That got her attention! She nearly dropped her fork in mid-air, but instead slammed it down on the plate. "Shannon, not for one minute has it crossed my mind that Alex has taken off with that bounty of emeralds!"

"I knew I shouldn't have said that. It's just... well; I have this horrible feeling in my gut that Alex may not be what he appears to be. Believe me! I hope I'm wrong."

Rosario was miffed by my remark. She got up, put her plate and mug on the sink countertop and left the room. Feeling rejected, I went back to my work. Time was creeping by, tic-by-toc. I so wanted to apologize to Rosario for thinking ill of Alex, but the more I thought about it, I decided I had every right to be suspicious.

From the entry hall I heard the grandfather clock chime four. The clock was extra loud...that was when I realized the doorbell was ringing in unison with the clock chimes. I dashed downstairs.

"Francisco! Please come in. I've been watching the time, waiting for you."

He looked tired and glum. "Let's have a seat in the parlor. Is Rosario here?"

"Yes, here I am," Rosario was at the top of the stairs on the first landing.

We sat at the parlor table. Francisco took out a small note pad.

"According to the university where Alex teaches, he has taken this week off by special arrangement. Next week is Spring Break on campus. His students are to turn in reports this week. Alex arranged for his students to drop off their reports at the faculty office. No person at the university knows of his whereabouts. He is expected back by March tenth." Francisco gave us a grim look.

What about his house, and Atlas?" I asked.

"I went to Alex's home. I spoke with a neighbor..." He looked down at his note pad, "Mrs. Anderson, older woman, retired school principal. She said Alex asked her to pick up his daily newspaper and mail for while he was away. She said they have this arrangement for when each other goes away. She even takes care of Atlas sometimes. But, this time, Alex and Atlas left together. Alex had two pieces of luggage, a large suitcase and a smaller duffel bag. They left on Friday evening, about eight. She doesn't know where they went or when to expect them back. She did not seem concerned." Francisco looked up at us and frowned "My gut feelings is that this turn of events is very odd."

Rosario clasped her hands into a fist on the table. "I'm sure Alex has a perfectly good reason for what he is doing."

"No one has said differently, have they?" Francisco queried.

I cleared my throat, "Um, I, uh... was wondering about the emeralds."

"Ah, yes, the emeralds," Francisco looked directly at me. "Technically, they are Alex's to do with as he pleases. However, you do have a point, Shannon. Also, having that kind of treasure could make him an easy mark for a burglary, or any other number of crimes."

"Other than us, we have to presume that no one else knows about the emeralds. And therefore, Alex is not in any kind of danger," interjected Rosario.

"But," I said, "we don't know if Alex told people. Possibly he did, and doing so could make him an easy target... for who knows what!"

Francisco held up his hands, "Let's not go there, yet. Do either of you know at which bank Alex has his safe deposit box?"

"Yes, I do," Rosario answered. "It's the same bank the parish uses."

"Then, I propose," Francisco said, "that we pay a visit to the bank. We won't to be able to find out if Alex accessed his safe deposit box, but we may be able to find out the last time he was at the bank. Rosario, I will need you to accompany me. Shannon, please stay here."

I grudgingly agreed.

"We best leave right now, if we want to get there before the bank closes." Rosario got up, went to the kitchen to get her purse and came back. "I'm ready."

Francisco turned to me. "I promise, this will not take long. We'll be back within the hour. Be patient, Shannon. And when we get back, let's go to dinner," Francisco winked at me and gave me a pat on the shoulder.

No sooner had Rosario and Francisco left, did Gerry and Rick leave. I was left alone with the worst possible thoughts... Did Alex take the fortune in emeralds and skip out on his life here in favor of creating an entirely new life-style? Could he have been the victim of robbery or some other kind of criminal scam? Oh, Alex, I wish I knew!

Chapter 41

Francisco and Rosario were back in an hour. All that Francisco had to say is that the bank confirmed Alex had transacted business with them on Friday... of course because of legal technicalities, the bank would not give out details. We went to dinner at a small restaurant a few miles up the coast. It had cozy booths, a spectacular view of the ocean and a burger house menu. The news hadn't dampened Rosario or Francisco's appetite in the least. I ordered a salad while they ordered cheeseburgers and onion rings. Francisco did his best to cheer me up.

"Shannon, I must make you promise not to tell Zach about my cheeseburger indulgence."

I was about to give in to his baiting, but didn't have the chance—

"—Hey grandpa, you know you shouldn't eat like that!"

I turned around, there was Zach, standing right behind me!

"Mind if I sit here?" He slid in next to me.

Seeing Zach did cheer me up. "You're back early!"

"Yeah, the estimate went well. We got the job!"

"Zach, that is great news!" said Rosario

"When do you start?" asked Francscio.

"Next month, after spring break. You know, Catalina triples its population during spring break. It can be crazy over there. The owner agreed that starting the renovations after the crowds of spring vacationers go home would be better."

The waitress showed up and took Zach's order. "I'd like to celebrate and pig out the way grandpa is doing... but' I'm going to be sensible and order a salad, like Shannon."

"Oh, Zach, you've earned it... you should indulge a little," Rosario urged.

"Actually, I am. In fact, I came back early in hope of inviting Shannon to go out to the ranch with me tomorrow," he turned to me, "I'd love to take you horseback riding."

All eyes were on me... "Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks Zach. But, I've never been on a horse in my entire life... well, that is, unless you count carrousel horses on a merry-go-round."

"Not to worry," Francisco assured me, "Zach is an excellent rider, and Pedro has horses trained at all levels of riding. Zach will choose the right horse for you."

I rode home with Francisco and Rosario. I was hoping Zach would offer to take me, but he had some late-night contract paperwork to take care of. Francisco dropped Rosario off at her parish apartment, and then he took me home. After seeing me inside, he told me not to worry about the Alex situation. He would do more investigating tomorrow. We said good-night, but not before Francisco gave me a hug and made me promise to have a good time out at the ranch.

I took a long hot shower and let the troubles of the day wash down the drain. I went to sleep as soon as my head touched the pillow.

Chapter 42

I heard banging at the door. My first thought was that the doorbell broke and it was an emergency. Who ever was at the door was desperate to wake me up. The banging was so loud! I got out of bed, then it hit me! Oh, no, not another dream! I opened my bedroom door. There stood a familiar-looking white rabbit, thumping his right foot in a tempo of great impatience.

"Where's Alice?" I asked.

"Alice? Alice? Never mind Alice!" the rabbit shot back in quick stunted phrases. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a heart-shaped gold pocket watch. Looking at it, he furrowed his brows together and looked up at me. "I'm late. I'm late!" He tapped on the face of the watch and shouted, "Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh! Here I go." Then he looked at me and said, "Don't follow the yellow brick road. No. No. No!" He wagged a finger at me. "You must follow your heart! You must follow your heart! Now, open the door. Open the door!" he commanded.

I wanted to correct the rabbit and tell him he had his stories confused. The yellow brick road was for Dorothy and Toto, not me. Instead, I rationalized that in dreams it is better not to argue with rabbits or engage them in a debate over the finer details of story plots. I opened my bedroom door. There, in the hall was a huge black top hat, turned upside down. Of course, it was the exact style that a magician wears, or pulls a rabbit out of. White rabbit turned to me one last time, winked and jumped into the hat. At the exact moment that the rabbit jumped into the hat, the hat soundlessly vanished from sight! I closed the door, crawled back into bed and said a quick prayer... Please, no more dreams!

Zach and I left at ten the next morning. The weather was mild and beautiful; a hint of warmth was in the air. On the way out to the ranch I got him to talk about his newest contract—renovating an early twentieth century mansion on Santa Catalina Island.

"It's a superb example of early 1920's Art Deco architecture. Two stories, high ceilings and has an elevator, of course, that was the latest technology for that era. Overall, it's been kept structurally sound, although it needs some retrofitting to bring it up to code with California earthquake safety requirements. That won't be too complicated because of how the layout is. Wait 'til you see it. Once I get started, you'll have to come over for a weekend."

"I'd love to. I'm sure Rosario would like to come, too. We can get a hotel room together. I've heard people say that Catalina is a great place for a vacation or a getaway weekend, but that rooms can be hard to get."

"You and Rosario won't have to worry about that. There's a guest cottage out back, three bedrooms and two baths. The owners of the mansion, Nicholas and Elizabeth Woodrow have told me to use it for inviting guests. I've got the key."

"That's really nice of you, but we'll have to wait and see. I'll be finished with the Blackthorne House project soon... and I haven't decided what to do that after that."

"You're not planning on going back to Chicago?"

"If that is where I can get work... then I don't have much choice. The editor at the magazine where I used work, wants me back."

"Have you tried getting a job out here?"

"No. I've been too busy with everything that's been going on. There's not much in the way of the publishing industry here. So, I don't know. Rosario wants me to stay on, and I know she has secretly been scouting out possible writing and journalism jobs for me. Problem is, I never enjoyed newspaper journalism. I like writing ad copy, especially projects like this one for Blackthorne House, that combines a corporate history with an ad campaign."

"Hmmm... I bet something will come up," Zach gave me a mischievous look. "Here we are."

We turned off the main highway and onto a county road. I could see the ranch in the near distance. As we approached I noticed a large welcome sign with a title in Spanish. "I don't remember seeing that sign the day we came out here for the funeral."

"What sign?"

I pointed up ahead on the right, "That one, in Spanish. What does it say?"

"Oh, that's the name of the ranch, Rancho Seguir tu Corazon."

"Sounds pretty, what does it mean?" I asked.

"To Follow Your Heart."

"STOP!" I screamed.

Zach hit the brakes hard. Good thing we each had on seat belts.

"Shannon! What's the matter?"

"To follow your heart? That's the name of Uncle Pedro's ranch?"

"Yes, it's been the name from the very beginning. Why? What's wrong?"

"Oh, Zach! Please, before we go to the main house, drive me out to the graveyard, there's something I must see. Please? I'll explain when we get there."

Zach gave me a serious look. "Okay."

We parked in the same spot we did for Olivia's funeral. I got out of the car and looked around.

"Shannon, you're spooking me, what is it you are looking for?"

"I can't really explain it, Zach, but I'll know it when I see it." I walked over to the path that leads up the hill to the family cemetery, but then I turned around. Zach followed, allowing me distance. I stood still, closed my eyes and listened.

"Over there," I pointed to where the pet cemetery is. "Let's go over there."

"Here," Zach held out his hand, "the ground is uneven in that area." I took his hand. He walked with me in silence.

I read the small grave stones as we passed them: "Whitey, Cottontail, Fluffy, Blackjack... those were Tina's rabbits that died in the fire?" I looked at Zach and he nodded.

"Yeah, that's the rabbits. The dogs and her horse and goat are over there," He pointed to a large area.

"Sadie, Wolf, Old Tom... her dogs." A few more steps and I stopped, "Pegasus and Nanny." Their grave stone stood upright in the shape of a heart. My eyes closed, I shuddered from a chill that went up my spine and into my heart. When I opened my eyes, Zach was staring at me.

"Shannon, you look pale as a ghost. Maybe we should go inside the house, get some water or tea?"

"No. Zach, I can't explain why I know what to do next, but what I want you to do now is get as much help as possible and dig up Pegasus and Nanny."

Zach stood close in front of me and held both my hands. "Shannon, you're sure about this?"

"With all my heart," I answered.

"Okay, that's good enough for me. This is what we'll do. Let's go back to the house, let Uncle Pedro and Aunt Sally know what we need to do. I want to call grandpa, too. Uncle Pedro has enough farm equipment that we'll get a tractor or skip loader or whatever it takes to get this done, today. I promise."

Chapter 43

Aunt Sally insisted I wait with her inside their hacienda while Zach, Uncle Pedro and a work crew dug up the gravesite. We sat at the kitchen table next to a window that looked out on the pet graveyard. Sally had pulled her brown hair up into a modified Gibson girl top not. She wore little make-up, and it suited her. The fresh-air living of ranch life put a rose-hued blossom on her cheeks unmatched by any blush or powder. She looked lovely, the kind of natural beauty that comes from within and is reflected in outer appearance. What with her open features and gentle hazel eyes, I felt as if she could be a member of my family, a long lost aunt of sort.

"I wouldn't blame you if you thought I was crazy," I admitted.

She smiled, reached over and patted my hand, "Nonsense. We women must always exercise our right of intuition. Francisco thinks the world of you, that's a compliment hard to come by."

"Yes, well, I'm rather fond of him. He is very keen about investigations... it's as if he works with a sixth sense when it comes to finding solutions."

"Oh, I think that comes from a lifetime of solving mysteries, not that he didn't have the natural talent for it in the first place."

We stayed quiet for a several minutes, sipping tea and watching the digging. Then, one of the men made all sorts of exaggerated motions. There was shouting, but we couldn't make out what they were saying. Knowing we were watching from the kitchen window, Zach turned and waved to us. Sally and I ran out to the dig site.

I ran up to where Zach was, just inches away from the grave.

"Be careful Shannon, the dirt here is loose, we don't want you falling in. That's at least six feet down." Zach grabbed my arm to brace me; I leaned over and looked down into the pit.

"Those bones," I pointed to what looked like a horse skeleton, "that's Pegasus, right?"

Pedro answered, "That would be right. And if you look over to the left side, there are smaller bones, that's Nanny. The horse and goat were buried together."

I peered into the grave pit, not seeing what I thought I would find. "Something is not right." I turned to Zach; "We need to lift the horse and goat out, then dig a little deeper."

Pedro had heard me and answered, "No problem, we can do that. This won't take long," Pedro stepped over to his work crew and gave instructions. Two men hopped down into the pit with ropes and canvass tarps.

The rest of us stepped away to the side to give them room. It was then that Francisco joined us. I filled him in on what was happening. We watched, as bones were carefully lifted out and set aside about twelve feet away. After all the bones were out, we looked into the grave, again.

"It looks pretty ordinary, just like what I would expect the bottom of a grave to be," remarked Zach.

"Wait— " Francisco cautioned, "the dirt at the bottom isn't as compacted as what I would expect."

"I agree. Can we dig deeper, but very carefully?"

Without a word of warning, Zach jumped down into the pit. "Hand me the small shovel, please?"

Pedro gave him the shovel. Using a light touch, Zach prodded the shovel point into the dirt bottom here and there, as if he were testing the dirt. After several tries, he hit something. Zach kneeled down and using his hands scooped away several handfuls of dirt to reveal a rotting piece of board that covered the bottom. "It's a false floor!"

He found a corner and lifted it up, several of the men reached down to grab the end and raise it off the bottom, up and out onto the ground beside us.

"Looks like a piece of a side to an old barn," Pedro said.

"Francisco knelt down for a closer look. He pulled a pocketknife out of his jacket and used it to scrape the surface of the wood. "Yes, I suspect you are correct, Pedro. In fact, some of this wood was burned in a fire."

"Hey! Look here!"

We had forgotten about Zach. He was still in the grave pit! We stared over into the grave... Amazed at what Zach had unearthed!

"It's definitely a whole human skeleton. It was under about a foot of dirt," Zach looked up. Does anyone have a camera, we should take photos before doing anything else."

"I have one," Francisco answered. He pulled a small digital camera from his pocket and snapped a few shots.

Pedro handed Zach a small hand-held garden hoe to continue unearthing the bones with as little disturbance as possible. After twenty minutes, the reveal was complete: we now knew where Eric Blackthorne vanished to.

"How can we be sure?" I asked Francisco.

"All things considered," He turned his attention from me to speak to all of us, whom else would it be? Francisco looked down at Zach and pointed, "The ring, on his left hand, please give it to me?"

Ever so gently, Zach withdrew the ring from Eric's skeletal hand and gave it to Francisco. Francisco examined the ring and held it up for all to see, "This ring, from the left hand, marriage finger, matches the unique thistle design of Olivia's wedding ring." Francisco turned back around and looked down at the skeleton. "And that pocket watch... Zach, can you hand that to me?"

"Sure," Zach carefully picked up the golden watch from the dirt that was adjacent to Eric's right hipbone and handed it to Francisco. Francisco brushed it off with a handkerchief and held it up.

"Oh, it is beautiful," I said.

"Yes. And it, too, is a unique design," Francisco remarked. "Look, it has the thistle etched on the outside. Let's see if it will open up." Francisco tapped the top of the case and the lid flipped open to reveal a watch face appointed with gold Roman numerals on a white mother of pearl face. Francisco tilted the watch face toward the sunlight, "There's an inscription inside the lid: To my beloved husband Eric, from his adoring wife: Time means nothing to us, we have forever. Olivia."

Zach came up from the pit to see, "Wow! Shannon you hit the nail on the head. This is incredible!"

I looked at Zach, who was now handling the watch, the watch chain and fob dangled from his palm. "What's that on the end of the fob?" I asked him.

Zach closed the watch and dangled the chain and fob in the air, "Some kind of key?"

I stepped in to take a close look. "Yes, it is. And look, the bale of the key is in the shape of an open heart, like a heart-shaped loop. "May I?" I held out my right palm. Zach placed the pocket watch in my open hand. I held the fob between my fingers... something about the heart key triggered a gut feeling... I turned around and gazed directly at Francisco..."Please, may I keep this, for a while?"

Francisco understood my query; he stepped over and put an arm around me. "Of course. You were meant to have it... for a while."

Chapter 44

Zach stayed at the ranch that afternoon to help Uncle Pedro and his men fence off the grave area and cover it with a large tarp. Francisco was adamant that I should ride back to Blackthorne House with him. He had called Rosario to let her know of the dramatic developments, and she desperately wanted both of us to return as soon as possible. She said she'd have a light dinner ready for us. Though—neither Francisco nor I seemed to have much of an appetite. We arrived back in San Diego at six. Rosario met us at the door.

"Dear, dear Shannon, what a shock this day must have been for you!" Rosario fluttered about me. "Go right on upstairs and freshen up dear. Francisco and I will wait for you in the kitchen. I thought we'd eat in there."

I wasn't in the mood to object to her coddling. Within fifteen minutes I was in the kitchen. "Smells good, what's on the blue plate special?"

"Oh, now that's the Shannon I know—springs back like a trampoline. You sit right there, I made a favorite from your younger days—tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich."

I smiled, "I can't ever resist that combination." The ambience of eating comfort food in a cozy kitchen brightened my mood. I looked up from my bowl and plate to see Francisco and Rosario looking at me with pensive concern. "Honest, you two can eat now... I'm okay."

"That's a relief!" Rosario turned to Francisco, "Are you certain that the discovery is, indeed, Eric Blackthorne?"

"Most assuredly. Of course, a DNA match test could be done on a living male relative, which would cinch identification. However, given the circumstances and history..."

"And we don't know where Alex is," I interjected.

"Yes, that too," Francisco didn't miss a beat. "All things considered, I am sure it is Eric."

"Me too," I added.

"Well, at least now we know what happened to him and we can lay him to rest properly," Rosario said.

I looked up and put my spoon down. "Actually, we really do not know what happened to him. We now know where he ended up."

"True, very true," Francisco commented. "For now what we have will suffice. This may be the only closure we will ever know. I talked with Pedro, he agrees that Eric shall be buried next to Olivia. It will take place this Saturday."

Rosario looked at both of us, "Who would of thought that in two consecutive Saturdays we would bury the original owners of this mansion? How very odd life can be."

"Well, speaking of odd, and in a deliberate change of subject... Why is Gerry still here, at this hour?" I asked.

Rosario gestured her right hand in the direction of the upstairs, "Oh, Gerry got a late start today on prepping the tower room walls for papering tomorrow. He wants to finish all of it today so he and Rick can come right in, in the morning and get started on hanging the wallpaper. I told them sure. They will be finishing up within the hour."

The cue couldn't have been more timely than if it had been written into a stage script we were acting out. No sooner had Rosario finished her explanation, than Gerry stepped into the kitchen.

"Pardon, Sister Santiago, but I've come across something peculiar. Would you mind coming up and taking a look?"

That got our attention. I'm sure we three were thinking... What now?

Chapter 45

The four of us hurried upstairs to the tower room. I had fierce expectations, but of what I could not say or even imagine. Gerry opened the door and we entered. Looking around, nothing appeared unusual. Rosario looked at Gerry, "So, what is it?"

"Over here," he walked over to the closet and opened the door. "You said you wanted the interior of this closet papered the same as the rest of the room, so I was doing some patch work..." Gerry pointed inside the closet, up above the door frame. "Right up here and noticed some bare spots in the plaster. When I scraped it, that's when I found this. Come see for yourself."

Gerry had spoke directly to Rosario, but it was Francisco who walked over to take a look. Francisco stepped into the closet. Gerry shone is flashlight at the spot while Francisco examined the area with his fingers.

"Peculiar, indeed! Shannon come see," Francisco beckoned.

Gerry stepped out and I squeezed in, in front of Francisco. I looked up to discover an inset panel, no larger than my hand. I reached up and felt along the panel's edges. "Bingo!" I exclaimed. I reached down into my pants' pocket and pull out the small key with the heart-shaped bale retrieved from where we had found Eric's remains. I reached up and inserted it into a small opening on the bottom edge of the panel. In one turn, a latched door opened. I reached inside and pulled out a little book. Stepping out into the light of the room, I blew dust off the cover and opened it.

"Look, it's all in Eric's handwriting. And it's dated... all entries are dated! Oh, my..." I thumbed through the journal and realized I was reading excerpts from Eric's life, right up to the very day he was killed. I shut the book and proclaimed, "This is it, this is the final puzzle piece."

I handed the book to Rosario, "This warrants careful examination." She turned to Gerry, "Can't thank you enough for this. Please, call it a day and go home and get some rest."

He nodded, "Sounds as if whatever that is, must be just the thing to cinch a mystery for all of you. Glad to be of help. I'll just get my tools. See you tomorrow."

It was getting late, but not a one of us wanted to give up on this latest discovery. On the way down to the kitchen I stopped off in my bedroom and grabbed my pen and paper pad. Rosario made some coffee. Francisco gingerly examined the small journal. He handed it to me. "Please, you do the honors, I will take notes."

My hands trembled, I took a deep breath and opened to the first page, "Okay, here goes:

"October fourth. We confronted Miguel with evidence of his marriage to another woman. He denied it. I told him Olivia filed for annulment and the rector is in agreement based on proof provided by the Pinkerton agent. Miguel threatened us. I informed the constable. Our marriage plans continue.

"October fifth. Olivia is fraught over Pico's threats from yesterday. I assured her she has nothing to worry over.

"October twenty-fifth. Our ceremony was beautiful. She is the most exquisite bride! We depart in two days. No sign of Pico or his wretched partner Santillo. The constable informed me that both are under suspicion.

"April first, 1889. These last six months have been a whirlwind of adventure and happiness. Olivia has come into her own contentment. Though, now she frets over concern for her sister back home. She asked to journey home. I am concerned. My contacts informed me that P and S are up to no good.

"Performance this evening. I anticipate a full theater, for a worthy charity.

"June third. San Francisco. I remain here for two performances while Olivia travels to San Diego on her cousin's ship. She will go to visit her sister.

"June fourteenth. Home at Blackthorne House. All is in order. Mrs. Nelson has done right by us in looking out for the home while we were away. Stage performance in two days. Olivia will meet me here, after performance.

"June fifteenth. Olivia's cousin is in town from ranch, said there was a barn fire, family thinks it may have been arson, no person hurt. The constable stopped by; said neighbors had reported illuminations in home while we were away. I told him Mrs. Nelson would only have been here in daylight. We inspect inside and premises for signs of burglary. No oddities. The constable gave an account of Pico faking his own death. Cautioned me to be aware of strangers in area.

"Later, same day. Intrigued by the constable's story, I search hidden areas in home. Found cache of emeralds! Have Pico and a confederate been using my home has their hideaway? Will notify constable tomorrow.

"June sixteenth. Constable out of town. Must prepare for performance.

"Later, same day. Odd incident with vendor in alley behind theater. No harm done.

"Evening. After performance, upon leaving, a beggar woman brings note to me, says it is from Olivia. Note is fraudulent, but has coded message from O. Trouble. What danger she is in! I wait in darkened tower. The clock strikes midnight. I hear screams in the distance, far away, but they taunt me with worry for my wife. If he harms her...I WILL KILL HIM. I will die haunted by love. But Pico, Damn you! YOU WILL DIE AS THE DEVIL'S OWN!

"That's the end." I looked up at Rosario and Francisco.

"Oh dear God," Rosario said, "do you suppose that the screams he heard, that seemed so far way, were the agonized yells of Olivia locked up down in the cellar?"

"Yes, no doubt they were," Francisco said.

"So, this is how Eric Blackthorne met his end? Perhaps he went to investigate the screams and then he was ambushed?" I questioned.

"Or," Francisco said, "He answered a knock at the door and allowed entry to the person who was in disguise—most likely Pico or Santillo. However his life was interrupted, it was by cruel cunning."

"Yes, cruel and as he states, by one of the Devil's own," Rosario concluded.

"At least we know he wasn't fooled by the phony messages," I offered. "And regardless of the entry in his other journal that proclaimed he would die haunted by Olivia's love, we know that he knew she didn't betray him. I think he agonized over her decision to return here, and in doing so, she left the safety and happiness of their life in Scotland."

"Also, this gives a strong hint that the barn fire was deliberate. Anyone who knew the Zavalas, knew of the family's great love for their pets, so of course they would bury them. And, a grave large enough to bury a draft horse in would suffice to bury a man, as well. Mystery solved," Francisco said.

I nodded agreement, then turned to Rosario, "How much of this do you want me to tell in the history of Blackthorne House?"

"Oh, my! None of this. What you have is just fine." She got up, picked up our empty coffee cups and began to tidy up the counter. Her actions seemed so casual, so normal.

"So, this is all there is?" I asked.

"Shannon," Francisco put his hand on my shoulder. "You have accomplished an amazing feat of solving a cold case murder mystery. A finer detective I could not have hoped to team up with. Now, we know what happened to Olivia and Eric. Now we can lay them to rest, next to each other, together, as they would want to be. This is a closure. You must believe that this is all anyone could have hoped for. It is late, let us all get some well-earned rest."

"Then...We bury Eric on Saturday?"

"Yes. I'll see you then. Good-night my dear ladies."

Rosario and I walked Francisco to the door. Rosario stayed the night. I was glad to not be alone in Blackthorne House.

Chapter 46

Eric's funeral was exactly like Olivia's. This time, Zach was not in attendance. He had to take care of some business arrangements on Santa Catalina Island. Immediately following the service, Rosario and I drove back to San Diego in my car. I was glad to see Gerry there. Having him bump around in the tower room made me feel like things were getting back to normal. I took off my coat and on my way up to my room I called up the stairway to him. He hollered a welcome. After changing into some jeans and a sweater I sat in the winged-back chair in the parlor looking out the big window. Rosario came in and sat opposite me on the sofa.

"I best be getting back to my office. All the latest events have cut into my normal schedule... paperwork never takes a holiday."

"I know what you mean. Though, I'm pretty much caught up. And, actually, my work here is just about finished," I said.

Rosario frowned, "Dear, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. We would like for you to stay on."

"Doing what?" I questioned with raised eyebrows. It was at that moment the hall phone rang. I rushed to get it. It was Zach. I could sense Rosario straining her ears to listen in. So I spoke in soft tones.

I walked back to the parlor. Rosario was perky with curiosity. "Did I hear you mention Zach's name?"

"Yes. He is enjoying Catalina, even though he is there on business."

"Oh, that's all he had to say?" She looked disappointed.

No, we made a few plans," I did my best to sound casual.

"Oh, like what, dear?"

"Nothing special. Zach says the owners of the place he is renovating want to turn it into some kind of entertainment venue. They'll need some advertisements and brochures, and such. He recommended me."

"Shannon, this is wonderful! What kind of entertainment?

" Deco Magic. The owners, a husband and wife, are amateur magicians. Their idea is to incorporate sleight-of-hand performances into a dinner show. And make the place available for private receptions. The theme, in tune with the architecture, is Art Deco of the 1920's. And... "I held up my hand in a cautionary gesture, "I didn't say I'd take the job, so don't jump to conclusions. Rosario, I don't know much about it. Anyway, Zach asked if I would mind meeting them, next week sometime. No hurry, he assured me. I said I'd think about it."

"Darn sure you will. Why this is a grand opportunity." Rosario was doing her best to sell me on this latest development.

"Anyway," I continued, "in a little while he'll fax some details about the proposal. Said he send them to your office."

"Why, I'd best get on my way. Don't worry, as soon as I receive Zach's file, I'll bring it back. Oh, I'm so happy you will be staying. I never wanted you to go back to Chicago in the first place." Rosario flew out the door before I could protest.

Chapter 47

After Rosario left I went back to the parlor and sat at the chair by the window. Never in a million years could I have imagined all that had occurred in the month I'd been in San Diego. These last several weeks seemed surreal. And indeed, many of my dreams and experiences were just that. All loose ends were being tied up into a neat bow... except for Alex. Would I ever see him again? And what about Aunt Dora? Rosario said she had called Dora to let her know about Eric and the burial service. According to Rosario, Dora was in complete agreement and grateful for all arrangements, but she made no mention about attending the service and indeed, she hadn't. Nor had there been any mention about Alex. I decided to call Dora.

"Hello, Aunt Dora?"

"Yes, this is she. Shannon?"

"Yes. It's so nice to hear your voice. I hope I'm not interrupting you."

"No. Never, child. I suppose you're calling about the package I had delivered yesterday."

"Um...what package?"

"Why, the one Judith took over. I just wasn't up to the trip, but Judith had to go into town, so she dropped it off there, at the house. You mean, you didn't get it? Judith said she gave it to a man, a worker there."

"Gerry? Could she have given it to a man named Gerry?"

"Yes... I believe that was the man's name. Oh, dear, I hope the package is not lost, it is very important you open it right away, it's from Alex."

"Alex? Aunt Dora, you've heard from Alex?"

"Why, yes, dear... that is why I sent the package to you. Alex was very insistent that I deliver it to you. What has happened to it?"

"Just a minute, Gerry is here, I'll ask him."

I gently set the receiver down and ran up to the tower room. "Gerry, did you take receipt of a package for me?"

"Uh, sure did. So sorry, I forgot about it." He walked over to his toolbox, opened it and brought back a slender package, about eight by ten inches wrapped in brown paper.

"Thanks, Gerry." I ran back down stairs and picked up the phone receiver.

"Aunt Dora, I have the package."

"Oh, good. Good. Well, dear, it was nice of you to call, do come to visit when you can."

"Thank you, I will. I promise. Good-bye." Just at that time, Gerry came down stairs.

"Done for the day. You take care now."

I saw him out the door, then went back into the parlor and stood at the parlor table. Holding the package in my hands, I read the undeniable script of Alex, it simply said my name. Carefully, I unwrapped the brown paper. It was a framed photo of two familiar faces. Alex and Atlas were on the deck of a ship, maybe a yacht. Atlas sat with a goofy look on his face and a Gilligan hat over his shaggy head. Alex was kneeling beside him. They looked happy and carefree. Around Atlas' big neck hung a makeshift sign: "Wish you were here."

I flipped the frame over, taped to the underside was an envelope. I opened it to find a handwritten note from Alex: 'Dear Shannon, it's amazing what can be bought with reward money garnered from returning stolen emeralds... the Manizales authorities were very grateful. We miss you, please join us.' With the note was a reserved first-class airfare ticket, destination: Hawaii.

"Oh, here you are." Rosario startled me; I didn't hear her come in. I clumsily picked up the frame and hid the note.

"Um... yeah, I was just going over some mail. She handed me Zach's fax.

"It looks very good, Shannon. A wonderful opportunity! I do hope you will accept the offer."

I nodded, not knowing what to say.

"What's wrong?" Rosario asked.

"Nothing. Really, nothing. It's just that I have to decide, soon, what to do next."

"Ah... and you're not sure?"

"No. Actually, I am very sure of what to do."

That got her attention. Rosario beamed with delight. "Are you going to tell me?"

I took the package, the fax and neatly stacked them together and tucked them under my arm. I walked out of the parlor. At the bottom of the stairs I looked over my shoulder at my favorite nun, winked at her and said, "I am going to follow my heart."

Author's Notes
Chapter 1

A: Blackthorne House is a fictional piece of architecture. My description of it is loosely based on Victorian homes in Southern California, specifically the Villa Montezuma, home to one of San Diego's most charismatic personalities of the late-1800's, Mr. Jesse Shepard. Shepard was a multi-talented musician-singer who had a flare for the dramatic, including entertainment in spiritualism. Villa Montezuma is reported to be haunted and tours of it are available to the public. Another home that greatly influenced my vision for the interior of Blackthorne House is the acclaimed America's Favorite Victorian, the Morey Mansion in Redlands, California. No finer example of Victorian grandeur exists than this superbly restored and renovated home. The Morey is a bed-and-breakfast inn and available for lodging, parties and receptions. The first bedroom on the second level, just off the corridor to the right, is the bedroom that I had in mind as Shannon's room at Blackthorne House.

B: Santa Ana winds, which can exceed gusts of seventy miles per hour, are most common in autumn and late winter in and around the Los Angeles basin and San Bernardino and Riverside valleys. However, all of Southern California is subject to the mighty Santa Ana winds, and at any time of year.

C: The real estate boom in San Diego of the late 1880's. was real and it attracted people from all walks of life, including such American icons as Wyatt Earp. Following the infamous shoot-out in Tombstone, Arizona, Wyatt Earp came back to California. His parents lived in the Colton-San Bernardino area, and indeed, his brother Morgan, who was assassinated at Tombstone, is laid to rest at the Hermosa Cemetery in Colton. While in San Diego, Wyatt Earp resided at a livery hotel in present-day Gaslamp Quarter. He held ownership to several sporting establishments and San Diegans gladly tipped their hats to him. The livery hotel was merged with a brothel hotel and became the very elegant—and original—Horton Grand Hotel, located on Island and Fourth in the heart of Gaslamp. Today, the "Horton Grand" is a premier antique hotel.

D: I can't help but to love a city that makes a dog its honorary canine mayor! Such is the very real story of the lovable dog, named Bum. As a free spirited dog, Bum made all of San Diego his home in the 1880's. Old photos place Bum in various parts of the city—Asleep on the boardwalk at a saloon in Old Town, or downtown, sitting dapper and at attention next to the mayor at a celebratory parade... Whatever the place or the occasion, in San Diego, Bum was as well-liked and welcomed as Wyatt Earp.

E: The name of Pico is prominent in California history. Numerous cities, streets, and public houses bear this surname. The most famous of all Picos is Pio Pico, a very popular governor from when California was under Mexican rule. My use of this surname is not in anyway connected to California's famous Pico family.
Chapter 5

A: The sleight-of-hand magic trick that Alex performs for Shannon is real... As are all the magic and illusions described in this story. In the latter half of the nineteenth century, sleight-of-hand was a form of magic that was immensely popular. The elegant simplicity of the trick that Alex does in this chapter is a classic from the 1880's. Here's the reveal: When Alex tore the paper into equal sizes, there were nine squares (or rectangles), and only the center square was written on. When Alex reached into the bag (or hat, or bowl, etc.) he magically picked out the square with the writing on it. To do this, he felt for (and thus, chose) the only piece of paper that had four rough edges... Only the center piece of paper would have four torn edges!

Chapter 10

A: I chose Herbert Dodd as a name for a Pinkerton Detective agent simply because I liked the anonymity of the name. To the best of my knowledge, no person of this name ever worked for Scottish-born Allan Pinkerton, founder of the agency or his sons William and Robert who took over after Allan died in 1884. Renowned for hound-dog determination, the agency headquarters in Chicago advertised "we never sleep" and emphasized this attribute with artwork depicting a black and white line drawing of an open eye...thus the stuff legends are made of. The Pinkerton logo is the origination of the iconic phrase: PRIVATE EYE.
Chapter 17

A: South America, especially the Manizales area, was (and still is) a major coffee production region.

B: Dipping a quill end in lemon juice is an age-old technique for creating secret messages. And coded messages, utilizing an established vocabulary word list, were crafty techniques used by magicians and their assistants. Unfortunately, during the height of the spiritualism movement in the late 1880's. and early 1900's, many a charlatan used these same techniques to scam money out of patrons hoping to communicate or receive advice from their dearly departed. In response to this type of public hoax, legitimate magicians often sought to expose the fakery. Specifically, the famous magician, Harry Houdini worked tirelessly to expose the tomfoolery of so-called mediums and mind readers.

Chapter 20

A: I can't say for certain if a dog can actually be determined to be a right-or-left-pawed hound. Over the course of twenty years I shared my life with two large male Irish wolfhounds. One of them, Brendan, most definitely favored his left forepaw for shaking hands and getting attention.

B: In magician lore, the word ABRACADABRA is unique. Now used as an incantation when performing, in Modern English it appears in common use by the mid-1500s. However, in the ancient world, the word was implemented as a chant used to cure sickness, especially fever. Ideally, in accompany to the chant, the afflicted person wore an amulet containing ABRACADABRA written as an inverted cone:

ABRACADABRA

ABRACADABR

ABRACADAB

ABRACADA

ABRACAD

ABRACA

ABRAC

ABRA

ABR

AB

A

C: The brief story regarding Colombian emeralds is true.

D: Warner Springs, the setting for Uncle Pedro's ranch, is in the back country of San Diego County. The area's history is quintessentially Old West: New Englander John Warner came west in the early 1800's. He established a ranch home, trading post and stage-stop...the only stop for the southern stage route between New Mexico and Southern California. In 1851, his ranch was attacked by a band of Cahuilla Indians. All of Warner's livestock and valuables were taken; his home and trading post were demolished. Warner survived. He left the area and never came back. Today, the site of Warner's original holdings is a popular hot springs resort. The resort and the surrounding ranch country are synonymously called Warner Springs or Warner's Ranch.
Chapter 22

A: The legacy of California vaqueros is seen and experienced today in America's cowboy culture. Of particular interest is the apparel that has its origins in vaquero legacy. The sombrero exemplifies this history. As a Mexican hat that shielded its wearer from the sun's rays, the sombrero was reinvented into the American West icon known as the Ten-Gallon Hat. This cowboy style grew from the proper name of the Mexican hat: "el sombrero galoneado," from which galoneado became "gallon" and the numeral "ten" was used to describe its extra-large size. According to Old West lore, the legendary J. B. Stetson created his famous "Stetson" cowboy hat based on the functionality and style of the vaquero's sombrero.

Chapter 23

A: Victorian age parlor amusements included such fanciful entertainment as deciphering riddles, (often based on nursery rhymes and fables), decoding a rebus, charades, scavenger hunts and well-practiced recitals. Adults took every bit as much enjoyment as children did in these various pastimes. Indeed, many of these amusements had adult-interest versions... Such as when a sailor's slightly naughty ditty would be substituted for a child's rhyme! The Crow Tile word problem and its fable are authentic. Shannon's clever solution (20 stones) is the correct answer.
Chapter 24

A: Zanja stones were large smooth river rocks, gathered from any one of the numerous creeks and rivers that run through California. The stones were collected and split in half, rendering one flat side, ideal for use as paving material in creating zanjas: water canals that brought diverted creek and river water to missions and homes for consumption and irrigation.

Chapter 34

A: The prayer offered by Alex for Rosario to read at Olivia's funeral is from the American Episcopal Church, which has Scottish roots. It can be found in the Book of Common Prayer, page 833, and prayer 63. This prayer is a personal favorite of mine.
Chapter 35

A: Once again I mention Bum, the lovable vagabond dog of old San Diego. In addition to Bum, the other real story depicted in the photos on the wall of the pet gift shop is the story involving Irishman Joshua Sloane and his best friend (and dog), Mr. Patrick. The story about Lucky, the duck, is fiction.

About Elizabeth Eagan-Cox

Elizabeth Eagan Cox has penned dozens of corporate histories for some of America's most prestigious companies, including: Ayres Hotel Group, Billabong USA, Cabo Yachts Inc., Forever 21, Matsushita Avionics and TXI Cement Mfg. Co. Elizabeth was a columnist for Old California Gazette and she is a former school librarian. She enjoys digging up intriguing stories about history and incorporating these facts in her writing. In A GHOST OF A CHANCE she used many elements of history to bring the story to life, including the study of late-nineteenth century sleight-of-hand magic, Victorian architecture, and details regarding California's founding Hispanic culture.

Elizabeth is a member of the National Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR) and the worldwide Irish Clann Mac Aodhagain.

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