Gene Torg was nervously pacing in the interrogation room when Sergeant Brice opened the door and admitted Perry and Della. Lieutenant Steve Drumm, who was sitting at the table in exasperation, looked up as well. "Hello, Perry. You might regret coming all the way out here when you hear what Mr. Torg has to say."
"Possibly," Perry said noncommittally. "What have you been saying, Mr. Torg?"
"Did you bring the jewelry?" Gene demanded.
"I have it right here," Della said, holding up the sack.
"Okay, now that was given to me by some kook," Gene said, pointing at the sack. "Maybe he was the guy who ended up getting knocked off; I don't know."
Steve sighed. "We took him to the morgue to try to identify the body, but he isn't sure."
"All I know is that he palmed the stuff off on me and then skipped out," Gene insisted. "I had nothing to do with it! I didn't even want the sack if it was filled with stuff that was such a problem!"
"So why didn't you chase after him and give it back?" Steve said in annoyance.
"I told you, I did chase after him!" Gene retorted. "I couldn't find him! So I brought it back to look at it in the light. Then Pearl tried on the necklace and . . ." He trailed off and looked to Pearl, who was still sitting at the table. She didn't look up.
"Well, Miss Chute?" Perry asked. "What happened when you tried on the necklace?"
"I hurt Gene," Pearl said quietly.
Perry rocked back. "You hurt him? Why?"
"I don't know. The police physician examined him and proved that he was hit on the head, if you don't believe me. And his apartment's still a mess; if you go there, you'll see all the damage we did while we were fighting." Pearl finally looked up again. "He got the necklace off me and that's when I went back to normal."
"Did you ever hear anything like this?" Steve said to Perry. "Apparently the necklace changed Miss Chute's whole personality."
"Oh, it was more than that," Gene said. "She said she was someone else, someone named Ellena!"
That shot a jolt through Della's heart. "Ellena?!" she gasped.
Perry whirled to look at her. "Does that name mean something to you, Della?"
Della looked down at the sack. Somehow she didn't want to admit that she had heard a voice calling to her and identifying itself as Ellena. Maybe when she and Perry were alone again. . . . "No, I'm just surprised," she said. "Who is Ellena?"
"A previous owner of the necklace, I guess," Gene said. "But so after that, Pearl didn't want to keep the stuff either. We drove out to Topanga Canyon thinking we'd dump it there, but we didn't want anyone else to find it and put it on, so we thought maybe we'd bring it to you for safe-keeping." He looked to Perry.
"That's the truth," Pearl insisted. "We had no idea anyone had died up there."
Perry looked to Steve. "Do you have any reason to believe they did, Steve?"
"No, not right now," Steve admitted.
"Then I assume you were just about to release them," Perry prompted.
"Yes, I think we've learned just about everything we're going to from these two," Steve said, getting up.
Gene's shoulder sagged in his relief. "But you will be on hand if we need you?" he pleaded of Perry.
"I don't know, Mr. Torg," Perry said. "You have to admit, it's a bizarre story. You're basically saying that Miss Chute was possessed by the necklace."
"By a spirit in the necklace," Gene corrected. "Oh, I know it's outlandish and it doesn't make sense, but we're telling you the truth, Mason! That's exactly what happened!"
Perry fell silent a moment, interlocking his fingers and gazing down at them. "I recommend that we all go home and think about this overnight," he said. "But I would like to point out one thing, Mr. Torg—if you should need me to represent you officially, I would expect the proper respect from you."
". . . Oh. Of course. I'm sorry, Mr. Mason." Gene ran a hand through his hair. "This evening has been like some kind of nightmare."
Pearl started to push herself up from the table. "Can we go now?"
"Go on," Steve grunted, gesturing to the door. "We'll call you if we need you again."
"I'm sure you will," Pearl replied, brushing past him and to the door. "Coming, Gene?"
"I'm right with you, Pearl." Casting a last grateful look at Perry, Gene hurried after his friend.
Steve got up from the table, shaking his head in disbelief. "Possession," he said, unable to keep the scorn out of his voice.
"I don't know if it's safe to mock it, Steve, after everything we've seen," Perry cautioned.
"Well, maybe not." But Steve still looked derisive. "So, Perry, what are you going to do with that jewelry?"
"Well," Perry replied, "as long as you don't know if the man in the morgue is the one who gave it to Mr. Torg, and as long as I'm unsure whether I'll take Mr. Torg's case—or if there is a case—I suppose I'll keep it in my office safe."
Steve gave a weary nod. "There wouldn't be much hope of getting any useful fingerprints off it now, after all the handling it's had all night long. Go ahead and take it."
"Do you want to look at it, at least?" Perry asked.
Della clutched the sack closer at that suggestion. For some reason, she didn't want to let it out of her hands. She couldn't let it go, not until it was back in the safe.
"Put the necklace on," the voice prompted in Della's ear.
With the voice came the desire to do what was asked. But Della resisted, gripping the sack as Steve spoke.
"I should," he acknowledged. "Then I could check with robbery and see if anything like it has been reported stolen."
"I was hoping you'd say that," Perry smiled. "Show him, Della."
Obediently Della went forward, opening the bag to let Steve see inside but not removing the contents. Steve came to her, peering in and then carefully lifting out the necklace and earrings. He gave a low whistle. "Well, this looks a little rich for Gene Torg's blood," he said.
"Exactly what I was thinking," Perry said. "I don't think he would have stolen it."
"I agree," Steve said. "But I'll find out if someone did. Hold on a minute." He crossed the room and opened the door. "Sergeant Brice?"
Brice looked up from where he was conversing with Paul. "Yes, Lieutenant?"
"See if there's anything on the stolen jewelry list matching these, will you?" Steve held up the necklace and earrings.
Brice raised an eyebrow. "Will do." He looked to Paul. "See you later, Paul. Good luck with your new case."
"Thanks," Paul said.
He walked over to the open door. "So what's going on? We saw Gene Torg and Pearl come out a few minutes ago."
"We didn't have a reason to hold them right now," Steve said wearily as he placed the jewelry back in the sack. No one noticed Della relax when he did.
"Sergeant Brice said they were telling some wild story about that necklace being possessed," Paul said.
"That's right," Perry nodded.
"Surely you don't believe that!" Paul exclaimed.
"I don't know what I believe," Perry said. "I'd say our first priority should be to find out what that necklace is and where it comes from."
"Uh huh. And what if we can't?" Paul looked doubtful.
"Then we should try to find the man who gave it to Mr. Torg, provided he isn't the man who was killed tonight," Perry said.
Paul shook his head. "You're taking this all very calmly."
"How should we take it?" Perry said. "It might not be anything more than a wild fantasy."
"Hamilton Burger would certainly like to believe that," Steve remarked.
"Does he know yet?" Perry asked.
"No, and I don't really want to be the one to tell him," Steve grunted. "The last thing he'll want to hear is that we might be walking into another encounter with the unexplained."
"Understandable. I'm not particularly thrilled about the prospect myself." Perry looked to Paul. "Oh, Paul, were you able to reach any of your operatives?"
Paul nodded. "Pete Kelton is available. He'll ride out to Manzana Valley with me tomorrow and we'll meet with Dr. Stuart."
"Good," Perry said in approval.
"Dr. Stuart?" Steve leaned on the doorframe. "That wouldn't be Dr. Aaron Stuart, the man falsely accused of murdering Tobin Wade in Topanga Canyon?"
"Why, yes," Perry said. "He's still a good friend of ours."
"And I'm guessing you're interested in the rumors that Wade's cabin is haunted?" Steve persisted.
"I'd like to know more about that," Perry nodded.
"There's not a lot to tell," Steve said. "Just the usual—people see lights on at his cabin or hear music or talking. Some of them call the police, since no one's supposed to be up there. The current tenant won't even live there with those things going on. But whenever the police get there, nothing looks out of the ordinary in the least."
"And so you figure it's just kids fooling around?" Perry wondered.
"Pretty much," Steve agreed. "Only if their 'fooling around' resulted in someone being killed, then it's no longer just a harmless kids' game now, is it?"
"It most certainly wouldn't be," Perry said.
"Wait a minute," Paul broke in. "Some people hear talking? Can they make out any words?"
"Not usually," Steve said. "One time someone thought he heard someone say, 'Bring Aaron Stuart,' but he wasn't sure."
"Does Dr. Stuart know about this?" Della interrupted in concern.
"If he did, he didn't mention it to me," Perry said. "My guess is he hasn't heard about it. Maybe I should ride in with you tomorrow, Paul, and tell him."
"Fine with me," Paul said.
"He wouldn't have heard about it from the police," Steve said. "It just seemed like a harmless prank then and the department didn't want to bother him about it."
Before Perry could reply to that, Sergeant Brice returned, looking troubled. "What is it, Sergeant?" Perry asked.
"There's no report of a necklace like that being stolen locally," Brice said slowly.
"But there is a report from somewhere else," Steve prompted, recognizing his partner's hesitance.
"From New Orleans," Brice nodded. "It was part of a collection owned by a socialite down there. After she reported it stolen, several people thought they saw it on a two-bit con woman named Ellena Fanchon."
Now Della jumped a visible mile. "Ellena again!" she cried.
Steve frowned as he looked to her. "That name does mean something to you, Della," he said.
Della averted her gaze. "I guess I just heard it somewhere," she said. "You know how sometimes you never hear a certain name before and then all of a sudden you start hearing it everywhere."
"Mm hmm." Steve didn't look convinced.
Brice looked uncomfortable. Noticing, Perry turned back to him. "What's the rest of the story, Sergeant?"
"There isn't much," Brice admitted. "When Ellena was murdered by some unknown person and left in an alley, the necklace disappeared."
"Ellena's dead," Della whispered. "Then her spirit could be in the necklace. Maybe she wants her murder solved."
Perry looked to her with a start. "Or maybe we all need a good night's sleep," he said. "I think the excitement is getting to us." He paused. "But you say her last name was Fanchon, Sergeant?"
"That's right," Brice nodded.
"I don't suppose there's any chance she's related to Agnes Fanchon, Larry Germaine's friend at the Club Caribe," Perry mused.
Paul shrugged. "It's worth looking into, I guess. Even if you don't believe this story about the necklace being haunted, the murder and the theft are real enough."
Perry nodded. "The last performance should be wrapping up there soon. Why don't you go over and see what you can find out, Paul?"
"Will do," Paul said.
"Sergeant Toland of Robbery might want to go along with you, Paul," Steve said. "Maybe someone from Homicide too."
"But not you, Steve?" Perry queried.
"Right now there's no connection between the necklace and the death I'm investigating," Steve reminded. "Not unless we can prove that the guy in the morgue gave Mr. Torg the jewelry." He sighed. "It's a long shot that you'll have any luck at the Club Caribe; do you have any idea how many Fanchons there are? But maybe I'll go along."
"I hope you learn something," Della said in all sincerity.
"So do we," Steve answered.
xxxx
It was late and Aaron Stuart was exhausted by the time he walked through the front door of their home. Marian hurried out to greet him. "How did it go?" she asked hopefully. "Will Perry be able to help us?"
Aaron managed a tired smile. "Yes, he will. He's sending Paul out to talk to us tomorrow about starting the investigation."
"Oh, that's wonderful," Marian declared. "Maybe we can get this terrible business cleared up before it goes on much longer." She looked worriedly at her husband. "I know it's been taking a toll on you, Aaron."
"I'm fine, Marian," Aaron retorted. "It's just a childish prank. Why would it especially be bothering me?"
Marian sighed. "You wouldn't have called Perry if you thought it was just a prank. You're really worried that someone is out to destroy the new school. And that would be bad enough, but when they must know what Tobin did in the past, it makes it clear that they're deliberately trying to torment you for other reasons too."
Aaron's shoulders slumped. "I just can't figure out why anyone would want to do that," he said in despair. "What could I have done to make someone that angry?"
"Did Perry ask you about that?" Marian wanted to know.
"No. . . . I don't know if it occurred to him that at least part of the motive must be revenge." Aaron set his briefcase down and sank into the couch.
Marian sat next to him. "I know it doesn't sound sensible or logical, but is there any chance that Tobin's murderer might . . ."
"Oh, good Heavens, no," Aaron exclaimed. "He didn't even want to hurt me; I just came in the wrong time and he decided he had to make it look like I killed Tobin. He doesn't hold anything against me now, even though he's in prison."
"Then who?" Marian lamented.
"That's what I'd like to know." Aaron got up just as the phone rang. Frowning in confusion, he went over and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Dr. Stuart?" The voice was muffled, but it sounded like a man.
"Yes. Who is this?" Aaron demanded.
Ignoring the question, the caller said, "Have you heard what's been going on at Tobin Wade's old cabin in Topanga Canyon?"
"Should I have?" Aaron said doubtfully.
"People are saying it's haunted and that Tobin Wade's come back from the grave."
"Now really," Aaron scoffed. But Marian could see the unsettled look in his eyes. "Why would he suddenly decide to start haunting his cabin now? It's been four years." Marian tensed, stunned.
"Maybe he wouldn't have," the voice responded. "But maybe you should start thinking about why someone would want you to believe that."
"Why someone would . . . who is this?" Aaron barked, his patience beginning to unravel.
"Someone who means you no harm." A pause. "Someone who wants to make sure you're not hurt . . . this time."
"Do you know who's out to get me?" Aaron voice had started to rise. "You'd better tell me if you do."
"I'm sorry, I don't. I only know that it's too much of a coincidence for Wade's cabin and your school to both start seeming haunted at the same time. Wouldn't you agree?"
"I suppose so, but . . ."
"Please be careful. I'll call again."
The phone clicked in Aaron's ear. He winced, pulling it back and staring at it in bewildered disbelief.
Marian got up from the couch. "What's going on, Aaron? Who was that?"
"I honestly have no idea," Aaron replied, stunned and dazed as he lowered the receiver.
"Well, what does the caller I.D. say?" Marian leaned over to look at the screen. "Amos Berry's Car Shop?"
Aaron gave it a stupid look. "I don't know anyone there," he protested. "I don't even know where it is!"
"Maybe it was a customer waiting for his car to be fixed," Marian suggested.
"At this time of night?" Aaron glanced at the clock.
"Well, in any case, what did they want?" Marian asked. "It sounded like they were talking about Tobin."
"They were. I don't know why." Aaron shook his head. "Nothing makes sense right now!" He headed for the stairs, loosening his tie. "I'll be glad when Paul Drake gets here tomorrow."
"Aaron . . ." Marian followed him to the foot of the stairs and placed her hand on the banister. "You were talking about Tobin haunting his cabin. Is there any possibility that . . ."
"That he is? Oh, Marian, for Heaven's sake!" Aaron turned on the stairs to face her. "Even if we want to say for the sake of argument that there is something after death and Tobin is experiencing it, why would he come back now? There's nothing significant about this particular passage of time!"
Marian looked down. "Maybe he just wants to tell us he's sorry," she said quietly.
"By haunting the campus too and starting it on a path of decline? He certainly has a brilliant way of showing his sorrow!"
Marian flinched. "We were talking about him haunting his cabin, not the school."
Aaron sighed, knowing he had been caught. "The person on the phone indicated the incidents are connected. I hadn't heard about anything going on at the cabin, but I must admit it sounds ludicrous to think it wouldn't be connected with what's happening at the school. I have half a mind to go down to that auto shop and demand to see whoever phoned me."
"They're probably not even there now," Marian protested. "They didn't want to let you know who they were, so I don't think they'd hang around when they'd know the number would register on the caller I.D."
"That's true." Aaron turned again to trudge up the stairs but paused once more. "Although maybe I could find out who used their phone recently." He hurried down the stairs and over to the phone.
xxxx
David looked over as the phone rang. He moved towards it, but stopped as Amos answered. "Hello, Amos Berry."
There was a pause as the caller said what he wanted. Amos's expression twisted in confusion. "What? Has someone moaned recently?!"
David resisted the urge to slap his forehead. "Let me try," he said, coming over to take the phone.
"Go ahead," Amos grunted. "Phones just ain't like they used to be. Connections rarely come through clear."
David accepted the phone. "Hello?"
"Hello, this is Aaron Stuart at . . ." The caller recited his number. "Someone at your establishment called here a few minutes ago."
"Really?" David replied. "That's odd."
"I was trying to ask who has used the phone there recently," Aaron said in exasperation.
"Ah yes. You'll have to excuse old Amos," David said with a slight smile. "But as to your question, I'm sorry, but I can't help you. There's a phone booth out front; anyone could have used that."
"Alright." Aaron sighed. "I'm sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for your time."
The phone clicked and David slowly hung up the receiver. As he turned away, his expression was clouded.
"Sorry, Aaron," he muttered. "Not now. Not yet."
xxxx
Della was anxious to get back to the office after departing the police station. Perry thought it would be a good idea to get the jewelry back in the safe as quickly as possible, and Della quite agreed.
"Are you planning to go down to the Club Caribe with Paul?" Della asked as they stepped outside Perry's car in front of the Brent building.
"I think Paul and Steve can handle things fine," Perry said. "But maybe we'll drop in on them out of curiosity."
Della smiled. "Then I'll be quick."
She hastened into the building before Perry could reply. There was a reason for her actions; after hearing Sergeant Brice's story about the necklace and Ellena, she wanted to try something. She felt she had to try it. But she waited until she was safely on the ninth floor and going into Perry's office through the back door Paul often used.
"Ellena," she called softly. "You're really here, aren't you? You're haunting this necklace." She opened the sack and lifted it out. "I want to help you."
"Help me?" came the voice. "Why?"
"Because you were murdered and no one knows who did it or why," Della answered. "I can help you find out."
"You really mean that? You're just an old romantic softie, aren't you?"
Della blinked, slightly taken aback. "Well . . . I guess you could say that. I just don't like to see anyone at unrest. Maybe if your murder was solved, you'd be able to leave the necklace and go on to the afterlife."
"If you really want to help me, then put the necklace on."
"What?" Della stared. "But after what Gene Torg and Pearl Chute said . . ."
"You would honestly believe them? You know what they are. And you know you've been wanting to try it on ever since they brought it. Go ahead, Della. It won't hurt you."
Della had to admit, the urge to follow through was coming back. Still, she tried to resist. If there wasn't anything wrong with it, Pearl likely would have wanted to keep it for herself . . . unless she had just been afraid of the voice coming from it. "How would putting it on help you?"
"You'd see what I remember about that night. It's hard to put it into words. If you actually saw it, maybe you could make something out of it!"
Della bit her lip. That sounded logical enough, but now she could hear footsteps coming up the back steps.
"Hurry! Into the library. Put the earrings in the safe and the necklace on yourself. But don't let anyone see you."
The urge was growing stronger. Almost without Della fully realizing it, her own will was slipping away. She dove through Perry's office and into the library, shutting the door behind her. Crossing to the safe, she opened the door and set the sack inside. Nearly as an afterthought, she grabbed the necklace and clasped it around her neck.
She barely managed to slip it under her blouse as the door opened. "Della?" Perry peered in. "You weren't kidding about being quick. Why were you in such a hurry to get up here?"
She whirled to face him. "Oh . . . I just wanted to get the sack away before anything could happen to it," she answered. "And I'm anxious to see what's happening at the Club Caribe."
"Well, then." Perry smiled in gentle amusement. "Let's go."
Della shut the safe and twirled the dial to lock it. As she followed Perry out, for the briefest moment her eyes flickered from their soft natural color to a flashing emerald green. But Perry, occupied with the prospect of what they might learn from Agnes Fanchon, didn't notice.