Unquiet Spirits Read online

  "Witnesses have sworn to it," Bart told her.

  "I should have told you before, but I didn't see any point in worrying you. But the situation has changed a little."

  "A little!" Bart exploded. "Someone shot at her in Toronto Thursday night."

  Johanna gasped. "Were you hurt?"

  "Only some bruises I got when the doorman tackled me to the ground. He was lucky the bullet just grazed him."

  "You mean someone actually is trying to kill you?" Johanna was clearly thrown by the news. "Did anyone see the shooter?"

  "Not really. Everyone was too concerned about the doorman and Kit," Bart said. "He was in a van with tinted windows and no one got the license number."

  "So he could turn up here." Johanna was suddenly all business. "We have to get some security people lined up."

  "We had lunch with Mike today. He and Bart came to the same conclusion," Kit said.

  "But who would want to kill you, Kat?" Johanna frowned. "And how did he know when you would be at the door of the hotel?"

  "Some of the people at the hotel knew she was at the theater and what time to expect her back. And we also have to consider how many people here were aware of which show she was attending."

  "Here? But she was shot in Toronto."

  "It's only a three-hour drive."

  Johanna's shoulders sagged for a moment when she absorbed the implications of Bart's statement. But Kit was glad to see her grandmother's fighting spirit surface as she straightened and met Bart's eyes.

  "Well, I knew," she bit out. "And Betsy. Who else was here Thursday morning?" She thought a moment. "Jim was here servicing the photocopier again. He might have overheard. Oh, yes, and I told Paavo about the show when he was here at noon. No one who would have any reason to want to kill my Kat."

  "I can't see any of you setting up the attacks on Kit, but I have to look at everyone. My brother Bret has some people working on finding a Florida connection with Toronto or the Huntsville area."

  "I hope they're good," Johanna snapped.

  "The best," he replied. "But you can see why solving the ghost problem is going to have to take a back seat to finding this guy. Tempting as it is to look into Raoul's disappearance, I can't allow myself to get distracted from my bodyguard duties. Particularly when it's the Kittle's ticklish little body."

  Bart stood up and pulled Kit out of her chair. "Come on, body. I need kitchen help. Time to cut and dice."

  Johanna joined them. "You must explain to me why you call my Kat that strange name."

  "Our housekeeper, Anna, called her that when she was five. Kit had just come to live with us." Bart grinned. "It's a Scottish word that means ticklish and unpredictable."

  "And it no longer fits!" Kit told him. "You may not have noticed, but I have become a well-organized, dependable business woman."

  Bart hooted with laughter.

  "And I am not ticklish any more." Kit's blue eyes were full of the devil as she shot him a smug grin.

  If Johanna hadn't been with them, Bart wouldn't have been able to resist that challenge. Just the thought of running his hands over Kit's curves in search of her sensitive, ticklish points had hot blood rushing to his groin. He feinted a step in her direction.

  She laughed and held her hands out to ward him off. "No attacking the kitchen help."

  "Don't tempt me," he growled and began to unwrap the steaks.

  Johanna looked on with a knowing smile. "I'll uncork the wine," she said, "while you thaw the steaks in the microwave and start up the grill. Kat and I will prepare the salad, then we can open the Beaujolais."

  Bart saluted smartly. "Yes, ma'am."

  Shortly, they were back out on the deck sipping red wine when Kit said thoughtfully, "Laila refused to talk about the estrangement between her and her father. Do you know what caused it, Johanna?"

  "Stubbornness on both sides. I watched it from the sidelines and could do nothing. Your grandmother had been gone for three years but Laila resented me from the moment Jacob told her we were getting married. I'm not sure whether she thought I was too young for him, or because she thought it was too soon.

  "He was very strict with both the girls, but Laila defied him constantly. When she was seventeen, she got pregnant. Although she refused to say who the father was, I had my suspicions..."

  "Raoul?" Bart guessed.

  "It seemed likely, although Laila insisted she had been with several tourists that summer. Besides, Raoul had gone off to New Brunswick with a country band by then."

  "He left home at seventeen, too?"

  "He was three or four years older, I think," Johanna said. "Anyway, there was no prospective husband in the picture. Jacob was adamant that Laila go to his cousin in Toronto, have the baby and give it up for adoption. Laila was equally determined to keep the baby, but she was not quite seventeen and still supposedly under her father's control.

  "And that's how it worked out. Jacob was positive he was doing the right thing. Laila said she would never speak to him again if he forced her give up her child. They both stuck to their guns. The baby was given up for private adoption. And Laila never forgave him."

  Kit sat silently staring into the depths of her wine for a moment. She couldn't believe Laila, who had never been able to keep a secret, had not told her about this. Had she ever known her mother?

  "That means I have a half-brother or sister somewhere," she mused. "Was it a boy or a girl, Johanna?"

  "I don't know. Laila said she didn't want to know and we were not to be told either."

  Bart knew the news was a shock to Kit but just maybe they had the first lead to someone who would profit from Kit's death. He didn't know why the illegitimate son or daughter wouldn't simply file a claim for half of Laila's estate. Possibly because Kit's fortune was much larger.

  "The cousin should know," he said. "And whoever did the legal work for the adoption. If you can give me the names, I'll get Bret looking into it right away."

  Johanna frowned. "I don't have any information about the lawyer, but Jacob's cousin was named Rikka. Her married name was Anderson. Maybe spelled with an 'e'. Elsa kept all of Jacob's papers." She looked at her watch. "I'll give her a call. It's almost eight o'clock. I'd better do it now. I'll see if we can get them from her in the morning."

  "I'll put the steaks on while you call," Bart said. "Come on, Kit. It's time to start tossing that salad."

  Johanna was reaching to pick up the telephone in the living room when it rang.

  "That must be Bret," Bart said as they headed into the kitchen. "No one else knows to call us here."

  But Johanna did not call for them. She spoke briefly into the phone and finished with, "Fine. See you shortly."

  "I hope it's all right with you two," she called, "but I invited Mike over to share that ton of sirloin you defrosted."

  "Good idea," Bart said.

  Then she was dialing again. Another brief conversation and she was back with them.

  "Elsa said she would bring the file of Jacob's papers over sometime after noon. That'll give her time to find it. And Mike's bringing a French loaf and dessert to go along with the steaks." She gave an apologetic little shrug. "The man likes to eat."

  Mike arrived shortly and proved her right. Kit was amused at the way Bart beamed at them all as they polished off their steaks. In spite of the unpleasant topic they were postponing, it was a friendly, laughter-filled meal.

  As they sat out on the deck with their coffee, Mike told them he'd arranged for three teams of two men to patrol the resort for the next few weeks. Kit agreed they should report to Mike or to Bart when Mike was not available.

  "I intend to be available." Mike's military bearing said he would brook no argument. "If we have the slightest suspicion that someone who has no compunctions about using a firearm might turn up gunning for Kit, I will be on site. May I use your guestroom, Johanna? I would prefer to keep a close eye on you, as well, at least until we discover the gunman's motive."

  "Why would anyone w
ant to harm me?" Even though Johanna pooh-poohed his suggestion, she looked pleased at his concern for her. "But you're welcome to set up your headquarters in my apartment."

  "Then come with me while I pack my things," he suggested.

  The heat in his warm brown eyes and Johanna's flushed cheeks told a story they weren't openly telling.

  It amused Kit how quickly the after-dinner cleanup went after that. In minutes, everything was cleared away and they were gone.

  Immediately, the cabin seemed to shrink.

  Chapter Seven

  Bart merely stood by the fireplace and looked at her with unmistakable desire in his eyes.

  Kit went over to the picture window. Although he didn't move a muscle, it seemed no matter where she moved, no matter where she looked, all she could see was Bart. His lean tanned face and thick blond hair drew her eyes. She yearned to plunge her hands into that silky thatch and draw his firm mouth down to hers. She didn't dare. One kiss and a wave of that incredible heat would sweep away every bit of her control. She had barely managed to resist making love with him Thursday night. And they'd come so close this morning in the cupola. She wasn't sure she had the strength to do it again.

  The masculinity and energy that surrounded Bart acted like a magnet drawing her to him. The temptation was overwhelming.

  No. There were good reasons why she must not give in. Less than a year ago she'd been so infatuated with Ronald that she'd married him. And Bart was forbidden fruit. She had felt like part of Will Thornton's family for most of her life.

  Oh, but the heat in Bart's deep blue eyes and that hard body...

  "I've been neglecting my exercise routine," she said, searching madly for some neutral topic. "I usually run in the mornings."

  "I like a morning run." Bart sounded as if he was waiting for her to make further plans.

  "I think I'll take a canoe over to the island for a swim after my run. Are you up for that?"

  "Sure. I want to explore the island anyway, and I don't have to be back here until midafternoon. Mike said he hoped to have a man here about two o'clock to install some alarms on this cabin and talk about beefing up electronic security on the rest of the resort." Bart picked up their mugs from the coffee table and headed toward the kitchen. "Were you thinking of going for a jog now?"

  "I think I'll have a shower and read in bed for a while," she said. She made herself meet his eyes. "Where are you sleeping?"

  "I figure the other bedroom will be all right tonight. I'll do a careful check around outside now. And Mike said he'd do a tour later after he's settled in at Johanna's. If we leave our bedroom doors open, I'll hear you if you need me." Still holding the mugs in his hands, he leaned over and kissed her quickly on the lips. "Next time we share that bedroom, sweetheart, you will invite me in."

  "Good night," she said, and made her escape into the bedroom.

  * * *

  The cheerful warbling of the birds in the trees didn't quite match the eerie scene in front of them when they emerged for their run at about seven o'clock. The sky was a solid arch of pearly, risen mist. Because the cool night air was still hovering over the warmer water of the lake, hundreds of little swirling columns of mist were rising all over its glasslike surface.

  "Look, Bart," Kit pointed out as they stepped out onto the deck, "mist devils. Beauties. Some of them must be five or six feet tall."

  "I want some pictures." Bart ran back into the cabin and emerged with his camera.

  "They won't be there long," Kit said as Bart moved around to get the angles he wanted. "As the breeze comes up, it moves them along and they dissipate. Laila and I used to love mornings like this. We'd paddle our canoe out to them and see how many we could catch and cut through."

  "Let's do it. I saw some paddles under the deck," Bart said. "You paddle and I'll take pictures."

  Bart got the paddles and together they quickly launched the nearest of the simulated birch bark canoes that were lined up on the beach.

  About a hundred yards out from shore they caught up with the first little swirl of mist. Kit steered the canoe through the middle of it, neatly slicing it into two much smaller wisps. She laughed aloud and aimed for another one, then another. The rising breeze was moving the mist devils faster across the water and with Bart's weight in the bow she couldn't seem to paddle hard enough to catch up with them.

  "Put that camera down and paddle, you lazy lump! I can't get around the point to that big patch of devils without help."

  He turned and grinned at her. "Didn't anyone ever tell you about catching more bees with honey than vinegar, Wee B?"

  She hit the water with her paddle at just the right angle for the splash to catch him square in the face. She chortled. She didn't know she could still do that.

  "Paddle!" she commanded with a broad grin on her face.

  Bart cursed and fished in the pocket of his denim jacket for a tissue. "You knew that would get water droplets on my lens, didn't you, Wee B? Hey! Look at the size of that pillar of cloud over there!"

  He casually jerked his chin to the left to indicate the direction, then continued wiping the lens of his camera. Kit angled the canoe so that Bart, sitting in the bow, no longer blocked her view. He had spotted a real prize. It was probably over five feet tall and much thicker than any of the others.

  "I've never seen one like that," she said. "But I doubt if I can catch up with it."

  "All right. I'll paddle," Bart grumbled, tucking his camera carefully under the little V-shaped deck in the bow.

  Before he could pick up the paddle, the breeze shifted about and began to blow the swirling chunks of mist back toward them.

  "Let's let them come to us," he said.

  The first half dozen moist wisps floated by on either side of the canoe as they sat still in the water. Kit shivered. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising. In spite of the dampness, there seemed to be static electricity all over her body. They should go back to shore.

  When she tried to raise the paddle, she found she couldn't move.

  Suddenly, this wasn't childish fun any more. Some kind of purposeful unnatural force was at work here. Kit cast a panicky glance around her. The rest of the lake was calm and smooth as a mirror. Bart, totally unaware of the strangeness of the situation, knelt in front of her, happily retrieving his camera. Being unfamiliar with the morning mists' usual behavior, he wasn't troubled by the mist devils' serene, undeviating progression toward them.

  She opened her mouth to urge Bart to paddle them back to shore but nothing came out. Uneasy, but somehow more mesmerized than terrified, she sat waiting.

  As the large strangely dense column of mist approached at a sedate pace over the surface of the water, it began to rotate slowly. About a hundred yards away, it changed direction again and glided in a wide circle around the canoe, gyrating more quickly. Kit's heart began to pound as the mist devil twirled in front of them. Bits of mist flew off it like chips of rock from a sculptor's chisel. Three thudding heartbeats later, the semi-transparent, grayish mass had become a woman.

  Kit gasped as the mist woman raised her arm and flicked her fingers in a unique little wave.

  "Holy shit!" Bart whispered. "It's Laila."

  The apparition certainly had her mother's figure. It looked to be draped in some kind of silvery material that clung to her every curve. As the mist woman glided just over the surface of the water, only her hand moved in its childlike wave.

  By the time the ghost reached her side of the canoe, Kit could discern her mother's features. Her lips were fixed in a half smile. Except for a trace of blue in her wide eyes, every part of her was colorless. And was looking less and less like mist. The upper half of Laila's body was still translucent but was beginning to look pretty solid.

  "What..." Kit had to swallow and start again. But she had the use of her voice again. "What do you want?"

  "We'll talk, Kit, sweetie," the ghost said brightly in the lighthearted voice Kit hadn't heard for seventeen years.


  "Come ashore."

  Well, the mist woman certainly issued commands and expected them to be obeyed the way Laila had. She turned, apparently confident that they would follow, and led the way around the point of the island to the side that was not visible from the lodge. She headed for shore. The peculiar electricity left her body and Kit found she was able to use the paddle. She and Bart paddled along behind the Laila figure in stunned silence.

  Laila glided onto the beach of a secluded little crescent-shaped cove. They followed. Bart stepped into the knee-deep water, pulled the canoe up onto the sand and gave Kit his hand.

  "You okay?" His blue eyes were concerned.

  "Bewildered," she whispered. He seemed to be taking this whole scene more in stride than she was.

  He squeezed her hand and held onto it as they climbed up onto a grassy knoll where Laila lounged in the shade of a clump of mountain ash. Add a tinge of color to her skin and put a tall glass in her hand and she'd look exactly as Kit remembered her at countless social gatherings.

  "Come closer," Laila's ghost commanded, stretching out one pale hand. "Sit by me. Both of you."

  Kit was grateful she still had hold of Bart's hand so that she didn't totter. If he hadn't been there she was sure her knees would have given way under her.

  Kit sat next to the specter, her mother's look-alike, on the coarse grass and tried to get hold of herself. What did this spirit, or whatever it was, want from her?

  "It really is me, sweetie." Oh, Lord! Could it read her mind? "I need to talk to you. Bart, too."

  When Laila reached out to her, Kit flinched away from her touch. "Kit, sweetie, you know I wouldn't hurt you." Laila's earthy laugh was reassuring. "I didn't even spank you all those times you deserved it."

  Kit held her breath, bracing herself for the chill as Laila's hand slowly stroked her cheek, but she felt nothing at all. The ghostly hand did not even stir the air.

  Laila sighed. "Can't feel me, can you? That's one of those darned rules. No sensation either way. And no going anywhere but the lake and the tower. Not yet, anyway."

  Ghostly eyes that gleamed like blue-tinged pearls fixed on Kit's. There was such a depth of sadness in them. She covered Kit and Bart's joined hands with hers.