up to the second floor and escape. Or they could wait in the passage until the house was empty enough for them to make a getaway.
“What about the third floor?”
Tinkie flipped the sheets until we had the floor plan for the ballroom and the locked rooms. The ballroom was the heart of this floor, but there was something off about the room at the end of the hall. I leaned closer to try to figure it out.
“It’s a dumbwaiter,” Tinkie said, her breath coming out in a rush. “It could work just like a passage. A person could sit on it and be moved up or down, like an escalator.”
“Where does it come out?”
We found the second-floor plans, and Tinkie looked at me. “In the linen closet in your bathroom.”
“And the first floor?”
The blueprints made a crisp sound as we flipped to that page.
“Behind the kitchen cabinets,” I whispered. I remembered that on the morning Jovan was attacked, Sweetie had been nosing there, trying to tell me. So there were two ways to exit the kitchen secretly.
Tinkie rolled to her back and then sat up with the ease of a sixteen-year-old. “That tells me there is no ghost, just someone trying to scare us.”
“And trying to hurt us.” Jovan could have been killed in her fall. I’d come close to drowning. “This is a dangerous person, Tinkie.”
“Dangerous, desperate, and perhaps deranged. A deadly combination.”
When my cell phone rang, I made a little squeak of surprise. The caller ID showed the sheriff’s office in California. Now that was a shocker. I couldn’t imagine Sheriff King was calling to ask how the filming was going.
“What can I do for you, Sheriff King?” I asked.
“Are you certain Estelle Marquez came back to the States?”
Though Cece had used all of her many charms at the airport in Petaluma, she’d been unable to confirm that Estelle had actually boarded a plane to the States. King had the legal authority to find out for sure, though. “That’s what her roommate said, but you’re the man with the badge and subpoena power.”
“Somehow Costa Rica doesn’t give my badge a lot of weight. LAX has no record of her landing here, and there’s no sign of Ms. Marquez at her place. This morning, we got a call from the neighbors. Her house has been ransacked.”
That got my attention. “Any idea who did it?”
“The crime-scene guys are still there. There wasn’t evidence of forced entry that we could find. I’ll know more later.” He sighed. “I’m worried. The neighbors said she was fragile and prone to depression. Is it possible that Estelle Marquez is so disturbed that she killed Suzy Dutton?”
I thought about the “apparition” that had attacked Jovan. It was possible that Estelle was building herself an alibi in the States. “I can’t answer that question, but there’s a chance she’s still here in Petaluma, Sheriff. Some strange things are happening on the set.”
“You think Marquez’s daughter is the source of the curse?”
“I don’t have any solid evidence, but I’ll call you when I find something.” I hung up fast and turned the phone off in case he tried to call back.
Graf wanted to take the house plans to Federico and talk to him, but Tinkie and I persuaded Graf that it would be better to wait until we’d had time to examine the secret passageways we’d discovered. Federico looked haggard, and there seemed to be tension between him and Jovan. Besides, we had to tell him that it was possible that Estelle was missing.
Of course, I was elected to do that.
I found Federico and Jovan sitting in the falling dusk, sipping red wine, on the patio outside the kitchen. I’d showered and changed, and later Graf and Tinkie and I were going into town for one last dinner. Tinkie had to get back to Zinnia. She couldn’t delay any longer. Oscar was going crazy without her. He’d even begged to speak to Chablis over the phone.
I could hear Jovan’s low-pitched voice, and she sounded serious. As much as I hated to interrupt, I had to.
“Federico, I need to speak to you about Estelle,” I said.
Jovan leaned forward. “Is something wrong?”
I’d hoped to talk to the director alone, but I could see that wasn’t going to happen. “She’s not in Malibu, and there’s no evidence she left Costa Rica.”
Federico sighed. “This is one of her stupid games.”
“She’s done this before?”
“Even when she was a child. She’d disappear in the house and Carlita and I would hunt for her for hours. Then she’d reappear. It was frustrating.”
I could see where that would make parents nuts. “I’m worried, Federico. She told her roommate she was going to Malibu, but she isn’t there, and the sheriff told me someone ransacked her home.”
Concern swept over his face. If the gossip was true and Estelle was not his daughter, he seemed to care about her regardless. “Is there any indication that she was injured?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, there’s no trace of her at all.”
“She’s probably still here, in Petaluma. She’s hiding out to punish me and try another tactic to ruin my film.”
“Federico, she’s your daughter,” Jovan said. “She wouldn’t-”
“She would, and before you rush to her defense, I suspect it was Estelle who shoved you down the stairs and scared you senseless. She’s disturbed.”
“And that’s my point,” I said. “She could be in serious trouble.”
“And she could be doing this to see if I’ll give up the film to hunt her-which is what I suspect. With Estelle, it’s always been about choosing. She’s her mother made over. Always pitting herself against my work. If I work, then I don’t love them.” He stood up so abruptly that his wineglass tipped and shattered against the tile.
The red stain spread across the slate like blood.
“Federico!” Jovan stood and grasped his arm. Her eyes were wide and her face contorted in misery. “That’s a terrible omen. I think we should hunt for Estelle. What if she’s in trouble?”
Federico looked at me and then at Jovan. “I’ve spent two decades trying to keep Estelle from harming herself. If I don’t bring this film in on time and on budget, my career will be ruined.”
Jovan let her hand trace down his cheek. “She’s your daughter.”
I thought about the rumors Millie had told me-that Estelle was really Vincent Day’s daughter. I wondered if that was what Federico was thinking. How much could he sacrifice for a daughter who hated him? A daughter who might not be his?
“Sarah Booth, would you find Daniel Martinez and send him to me?” Federico asked. “I’ll pay him to find Estelle. If she’s in Petaluma, he’ll find her. And make certain she’s okay. But I must focus on this film.”
That sounded like a reasonable plan, because if Estelle was actually in the house, Graf, Tinkie, and I planned to rout her out.
Jovan kissed Federico’s cheek. “I can help hunt for her, too. Surely, if she’s playing the spoiled daughter, she’ll be staying somewhere comfortable. I’ll tour the hotels and guesthouses tomorrow and check.”
It was a good idea. “Perfect, Jovan. I’ll talk to the authorities and see if they’ll give us any assistance.”
“And I will speak to her brother.” Federico’s tone was grim. “If he knows anything, he’ll tell me.”
“Federico, when you get a moment, I need to speak to you about something else.” I hated to lay the hidden rooms and secret passageways on him, but he had to know.
Jovan gave me a look that held curiosity and something else I couldn’t pinpoint. She had no need to worry about me. My interest in Federico was strictly professional, and I’d done everything I could to show it.
“Is it about the ghost?” Jovan asked.
My smile was tired. “Not really. I think you were pushed by a real person, Jovan. I wouldn’t worry about the ghost.” Especially not once we blocked the secret passageways. That would put an end to a lot of the ghostly maneuvering around the house. But I didn’t want to tell Jovan, and on second thought, I wondered if I should keep
