Murder on the House 3 by Blackwell Juliet

Author:Blackwell, Juliet [Blackwell, Juliet]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery & Detective, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9781101606803
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2012-12-04T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

The next morning I was up and out bright and early. I was not, after all, getting paid for my ghost-busting services, and I still had Turner Construction to run. Our subcontractors and full-time staff depended on me to keep the company in the black, and to make payroll every month, despite whatever ghosts I might have seen or murders I might be trying to figure out.

After going over some final drawings with carpenters at Matt’s place in Pacific Heights, I headed to Cheshire House to make sure all the subcontractors were on schedule to be out before the floor refinishers started their job, which would render the house uninhabitable for more than a week.

By the time I finished up there, it was almost one in the afternoon. My stomach was growling as I drove down Market to the giant rainbow flag that marked the entrance to the Castro. This area was once home to so many working-class northern European immigrants that it was called Little Scandinavia. Later, Irish families moved in. There were still traces of each, but by the 1970s Harvey Milk, who would become the most famous resident of the neighborhood, opened a camera store and became politically active in the quest for gay civil rights, contributing to the notion of the Castro as a gay-friendly destination. I was very young at the time, but I still remembered the horrifying assassinations of City Supervisor Milk and Mayor Moscone in 1978.

I found a rare two-hour parking spot, and stopped in at Sylven’s Pizza. As before, the place was half-full of men eating slices. Other than a young woman taking phone orders, I was the only female in sight.

“Oh my Lord! You poor, poor thing.” J.D. came out from behind the register and gave me a hug as though I were a long-lost friend. “George! George, look who’s here, the poor doll from the other night. You know I had no idea how serious it was when you came in that night—I was trying not to listen in as you talked on the phone, so I just assumed the poor doll had been knocked down and broke her hip, or there was a break-in or something. I had no idea.”

George came over, wiping his hands on his apron. “How are you? I’ll bet you’re traumatized. You poor thing.”

“I’m Mel Turner, by the way.” I handed them my business card, feeling overwhelmed but gratified by their reactions. “Mrs. Bernini and the Propaks invited me to spend the night on Saturday. I’m one of the general contractors vying for the job to transform the place into a bed-and-breakfast.”

“You know, we heard something about that, just the other day,” said J.D. “We were a little surprised—Mrs. Bernini hadn’t mentioned anything. And usually we know everything that’s going on around here, don’t we, George?”

“Just about everything.” George nodded.

“Mel, you just sit right there and we will serve you the most delicious pizza you’ve ever had.”

“I tried it the other night,” I said as I took the proffered stool at the counter.

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