Sara Mason Mysteries Collection

Chapter 8

Sara and Daphine had planned to go to breakfast and then view some new art Daphine wanted to hang in her gallery. Sara hoped to find some paintings of the Delta for her new home, but visiting Esmerelda seemed the more exciting thing to do.

Daphine left her van parked in Locke. On the way, they stopped at a small shop on the levee in Walnut Grove and bought a bouquet of purple tulips. They passed through town on the east side of the river and then crossed over.

“If I remember correctly, this is called the Miller"s Ferry Swing Bridge—”

Miller"s Ferry Swing Bridge“Over Georgiana Slough,” Daphine said. “We"re on the back side of Andrus Island now.”

The morning mists had cleared, but they still needed to have the heat turned on. From atop the levee, they had a three hundred sixty degree view of the horizon, all the way to Mt. Diablo to the southwest. On a clear day, the tallest peaks of the Sierras came into view in the east. In the distance, flocks of migrating birds darkened the sky.

“Won"t we be barging in?” Sara asked. “Shouldn"t we have called?”

“No need. I"ve already met her a couple of times. Well, some time ago. She may not remember me.”

“Then we should call.” Sara reached to pull her cell phone from her waistband.

“Nonsense,” Daphine said, touching her and stopping her. “Rumor has it Esmerelda"s a lonely old woman who welcomes visitors.”

Certainly being in the seventies was not old. “She doesn"t get out?”

“Usually real busy with her facility there, but I understand she"s slowed down some.”

After nearly three miles of winding levee road, a green and white sign along the levee shoulder appeared with the name…

River Hospice

An earthen ramp angled down off the embankment and opened into a parking lot at the back of the main patient facility to the left. A private home and separate parking area stood to the right. Sara stopped in the middle, momentarily surprised by the lush grounds, with farm fields over-wintering in the background beyond a canal.

Tall oaks and elms sheltered white buildings. Trees lined the main walkways. Expansive lawns beyond the main building offered sitting areas with benches or tables and chairs under more shade trees. Winter flowers, like freesia, anemone, and irises put out color spots everywhere.

“Looks like Esmerelda really needed our bouquet,” Sara said with a chuckle.

“Well, I don"t see any tulips growing,” Daphine said.

Several Mexican laborers wearing blue work clothes began wiping morning dew from the furniture.

A house on the right side of the driveway, and painted dark green, stood on numerous crisscrossed two-by-fours and other supports so that the living area was equal to the height of the levee. A squirrel scampered out of the weeds underneath. Many of the houses close to the levees were built up high in case the levees sprung a leak. Even the patient facility was elevated four feet, though the cottages, some of them new, were barely a foot off the ground.

The dark green home had what looked to be a recent add-on deck with outdoor furniture. Trees also sheltered the house and the nearby garage. The smell of coffee invited.

“May I help you, ladies?” a rugged looking man in a white uniform asked as he approached from the main building. Traces of an accent said he was originally European. He ran his fingers through his tousled blond hair. Sunlight illuminated patches of gray at the temples.

Daphine leaned down to see out of Sara"s side. She straightened as the man bent down to lean on his arm at the opened window. “We heard Mrs. Talbot welcomes visitors,” Daphine said, smiling.

“I"m Sara Mason.” She offered her hand.

“Fredrik Verner here,” he said with a warm smile, shaking her hand. Then he stuck his face inside and offered his hand past Sara. He seemed European prim and proper, all class and protocol. He noticed the flowers lying across Daphine"s lap and smiled out of the corner of his mouth. “You"re Daphine. You have one of the galleries in Locke, right?”

Daphine seemed pleased. “Yes, I do,” she said modestly.

“I remember you,” he said, pulling himself back out of the window though he still leaned. “I tried to buy a painting from you… at least ten years ago.”

“Ten years?”

“A surreal, supernatural looking piece. Fleeing Hell was the title on it. It was signed "DEW", and you wouldn"t tell me who this "DEW" person was.”

Fleeing Hell“Not authorized to divulge personal information on the artists,” Daphine said. Her eyes twinkled as if she enjoyed the mystery of it. Quality sold most art, to both visitors and locals.

“I tried to find that artist and never could,” he said, shrugging. “I still remember that painting.” He stepped back and pointed. “Park over there.”

They pulled into the driveway behind the house. The garage appeared to be the original structure with sagging eaves and timbers and double doors that manually opened outwards. Only the residence had been remodeled. Fredrik sprinted up the tall flight of stairs as another car pulled out of the parking area on the other side and headed toward the levee. As Sara climbed out of her SUV, she thought she recognized the man in the car but wasn"t sure. He was too far away, and she caught only a glimpse of him from behind as his head jerked back quickly, as if he wanted to see something he had missed.

Fredrik was already on the deck as Sara and Daphine climbed the stairs. The door opened, and a woman stepped out as they reached the top. She wore a green Chinese lounging robe and silk pajamas with short-heeled transparent slippers. An impeccably groomed black standard poodle followed behind her. The poodle"s coat was the same color as the woman"s hair.

“ET, you have guests,” Fredrik said.

“ET?” Daphine asked, blurting it out. “You call her ET?”

Esmerelda had a throaty laugh. “Esme, Mrs. T, ET,” she said, putting a hand to her chest. “I"ve been told I"m from another planet.” Her voice was lusty with age, but every bit feminine, even sweet. In addition to the bevy of huge diamonds in her wedding ring set, on her right-hand ring finger was a band about half an inch wide, encrusted with fiery gemstones.

“For you,” Daphine said, handing her the bouquet. “From us.”

“Why, thank you, ladies,” Esmerelda said. She seemed deeply moved, paused a moment, then said, “I see you"ve met my director.” She patted Fredrik"s shoulder. “He runs the place.”

The yaps of puppies came from inside the house.

After introductions, Fredrik excused himself to continue his rounds.

Esmerelda grabbed his arm. “Tell the aides for me, will ya? Don"t let old Jonas piss in Tripp"s irises again.”

Fredrik smiled politely and walked away, accepting the remark like it was all part of the day. He seemed to have sophisticated mannerisms and might have hidden his embarrassment behind the smile.

“Glad to see new faces,” Esmerelda said. “A lot of sightseers out these days.” She gestured toward the levee road and seemed dismayed. “Not too many come to see us though.” She turned and looked out over her property. “This is a place for the old and dying, and I heard that townspeople stay away because of my groundskeeper.”

“I"ve seen him around,” Daphine said. “Wears his pants high up under his armpits with his nuts hanging halfway down his leg.”

Sara gasped. She and Daphine shared a lot of naughty girl-talk as youngsters. Nothing said went any farther. That"s why she trusted Daphine, but being reunited might throw Daphine back into that old naughty habit.

Esmerelda slapped Daphine"s shoulder. “I adored you when we first met. Where the hell have you been keeping yourself, girl?”

Sara breathed easier. Daphine really hadn"t changed. At times, her ability to slice and dice the conversation knew no restraint.

The pups continued to whine inside the screen door.

The poodle stood poised at Esmerelda"s side. “This is my girl, Mimie,” Esmerelda said. “Mimie la Jolie.” She stroked Mimie"s back. Mimie whined low noises of approval and her tail, with a coiffed puff on the end, flicked back and forth in a blur. “Come on in,” Esmerelda said.

As she opened the screen door, two very young pit bull puppies ran out; one a deep chocolate brown, the other, coffee with a hint of cream. They wiggled and squiggled and Esmerelda, holding the bouquet, couldn"t catch them. Just as they neared the stairs, Sara scooped up the chocolate one. “Get that one, Daph!” She did, and still, the pups wiggled and licked and yapped.

“Feisty little kids,” Esmerelda said. “Just two months old and they already know how to recognize a friend.”