Ghost in the Polka Dot Bikini: A Ghost of Granny Apples Mystery by Sue Ann Jaffarian Page A
Authors: Sue Ann Jaffarian
Tags: Fiction, Mystery, amateur sleuth, Murder, Paranormal Mystery, soft-boiled, murder mystery, mystery novels, amateur sleuth novel
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watching TV. Neither did she show up later that evening. Nor did Tessa or Sandy. Phil and Emma spent a relaxing, ghost-free evening and Saturday morning. After breakfast, they walked down to the Casino and the museum.
Built in 1929, the Catalina Island Casino is the most recognizable landmark on the island and graces the majority of postcards sent by visitors. Despite its name, there was no gambling. The magnificent, circular, Art Deco building got its name from the Italian meaning of the word casino —gathering place. Housing a grand ballroom and a movie theatre, as well as the Catalina Island Museum, it was the main venue for events on the island. During the island’s glory days, it hosted many of the famous big bands and talents like Glenn Miller and Harry James. Even today, people flock to the island to attend special dances and events at the Casino. Although Emma had been inside the Casino many times, its overwhelming beauty and size never failed to stun her into reverence.
Sandy had said she’d never seen anything in the newspaper that could be linked to Tessa North, but Emma still wanted to go through some of the back issues surrounding the time of Tessa’s death. She found nothing about a death or accident during the time period, nor did she find anything in the weeks or months following about a body being found. In all, their trip to the museum produced a big zero, except that Emma spotted the ghost of a woman dressed in finery from the early 1900s wandering the museum. It was one of the spirits mentioned in the book she’d picked up the day before.
“Did you see this?” Phil pushed an old newspaper in Emma’s direction. “It’s about Sandy Sechrest.”
Emma studied the article. It was short in length and reported that island artist Sandy Sechrest was having a showing of her work at the Lighthouse Gallery.
“She’s a painter,” Emma said. “Makes sense. The shirt she was wearing appeared to be covered with paint splatters.” She took note of the date on the paper. “Apparently, she was painting years ago and was still at it when she died.” She looked at Phil. “How interesting.”
“Wonder if any of her paintings are still around.”
Before leaving the museum, they asked the curator about Sandy Sechrest.
“The Lighthouse Gallery closed down many, many years ago,” the woman reported. “But Sandy’s work is still being sold in several of the present galleries. She was well known for painting scenes of life here on the island.”
After walking back to the main part of town via Casino Way, they consulted their guidebook for art galleries. At the first they struck out, but the owner directed them to another gallery on the next street over, saying that gallery had several of Sandy’s paintings currently on display.
The second gallery was larger. There appeared to be a single clerk, and he was tied up with an older couple considering an original oil seascape. The clerk nodded at Phil and Emma when they came in and said he’d be with them shortly. They strolled the shop, which ran long and deep into the building. On the walls were many paintings, all by local artists, according to posted plaques. Most were of nature, with seascapes being the most common theme.
“Here’s one, Emma.” Phil was standing in front of a large oil painting in an ornate frame, peering at the plaque through his reading glasses. The painting was of Avalon Bay. There were a few boats moored in the bay, and from the clouds and sky, it appeared to have been a stormy day. “It says it was painted in 1997.”
Emma read the plaque of the painting next to it—one depicting a fire ravaging a canyon. The painting was both beautiful and terrifying, and so realistic you could almost feel heat from the blaze radiating off the canvas. “This one was painted in 2007.” Emma looked over at Phil. “I remember this fire. It almost destroyed the island.”
“Most everyone was evacuated to the mainland, but I
Built in 1929, the Catalina Island Casino is the most recognizable landmark on the island and graces the majority of postcards sent by visitors. Despite its name, there was no gambling. The magnificent, circular, Art Deco building got its name from the Italian meaning of the word casino —gathering place. Housing a grand ballroom and a movie theatre, as well as the Catalina Island Museum, it was the main venue for events on the island. During the island’s glory days, it hosted many of the famous big bands and talents like Glenn Miller and Harry James. Even today, people flock to the island to attend special dances and events at the Casino. Although Emma had been inside the Casino many times, its overwhelming beauty and size never failed to stun her into reverence.
Sandy had said she’d never seen anything in the newspaper that could be linked to Tessa North, but Emma still wanted to go through some of the back issues surrounding the time of Tessa’s death. She found nothing about a death or accident during the time period, nor did she find anything in the weeks or months following about a body being found. In all, their trip to the museum produced a big zero, except that Emma spotted the ghost of a woman dressed in finery from the early 1900s wandering the museum. It was one of the spirits mentioned in the book she’d picked up the day before.
“Did you see this?” Phil pushed an old newspaper in Emma’s direction. “It’s about Sandy Sechrest.”
Emma studied the article. It was short in length and reported that island artist Sandy Sechrest was having a showing of her work at the Lighthouse Gallery.
“She’s a painter,” Emma said. “Makes sense. The shirt she was wearing appeared to be covered with paint splatters.” She took note of the date on the paper. “Apparently, she was painting years ago and was still at it when she died.” She looked at Phil. “How interesting.”
“Wonder if any of her paintings are still around.”
Before leaving the museum, they asked the curator about Sandy Sechrest.
“The Lighthouse Gallery closed down many, many years ago,” the woman reported. “But Sandy’s work is still being sold in several of the present galleries. She was well known for painting scenes of life here on the island.”
After walking back to the main part of town via Casino Way, they consulted their guidebook for art galleries. At the first they struck out, but the owner directed them to another gallery on the next street over, saying that gallery had several of Sandy’s paintings currently on display.
The second gallery was larger. There appeared to be a single clerk, and he was tied up with an older couple considering an original oil seascape. The clerk nodded at Phil and Emma when they came in and said he’d be with them shortly. They strolled the shop, which ran long and deep into the building. On the walls were many paintings, all by local artists, according to posted plaques. Most were of nature, with seascapes being the most common theme.
“Here’s one, Emma.” Phil was standing in front of a large oil painting in an ornate frame, peering at the plaque through his reading glasses. The painting was of Avalon Bay. There were a few boats moored in the bay, and from the clouds and sky, it appeared to have been a stormy day. “It says it was painted in 1997.”
Emma read the plaque of the painting next to it—one depicting a fire ravaging a canyon. The painting was both beautiful and terrifying, and so realistic you could almost feel heat from the blaze radiating off the canvas. “This one was painted in 2007.” Emma looked over at Phil. “I remember this fire. It almost destroyed the island.”
“Most everyone was evacuated to the mainland, but I
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