The Ghost from the Sea (10 page)

J
ack stood
on the beach laughing.
When was the last time I've laughed like this?
Jack asked himself. A broad smile on his face, Jack watched the man run from the beach. “Damn, that was fun!”

J
oanne Johnson
, Marlow House's housekeeper and occasional cook, unpacked the groceries Lily had picked up that morning, putting them away in the refrigerator and pantry. It was mid-morning on Friday. Guests were arriving that afternoon, one couple from Portland and a writer from Washington State. Joanne had already prepared the rooms, putting clean linens on the beds and setting out the towels.

The writer from Washington would be staying upstairs in the Red Room, and a couple from Portland would be staying in the downstairs bedroom, as the husband had a problem navigating the stairs. Danielle was still contemplating renaming the rooms. Initially she had named the upstairs bedrooms by color, eventually regretting her decision. However, she hadn't yet decided on new names, so for now, rooms on the second floor were by color, while the downstairs bedroom was simply called the downstairs bedroom, and the attic room—a room which had only been used by one guest—was called the attic room.

While Joanne organized the kitchen, and prepped the food for Saturday's breakfast, Lily was in the side yard instructing the gardener on a few changes they wanted to make on the landscaping. Upstairs, Danielle sat alone in her bedroom, trying to decide if she should sit down with Walt and tell him everything she knew about the Eva Aphrodite. They hadn't yet discussed what Jack had said before Walt's hasty departure, nor the murdered passengers and crew, and Walt knew nothing about the mysterious jewelry found on board.

Walt normally came to her room each evening, where the two would discuss the day's events, or simply to say goodnight. Yet Walt hadn't shown himself last night—or this morning. Taking a deep breath, Danielle stood up and decided to talk to him.

Just as she stepped out of her bedroom, she heard Sadie racing up the stairs, the nails of the dog's paws scraping against the wood steps as she made her ascent. The sound of the front door slamming shut could be heard, along with Ian's voice calling out an unenthusiastic, “
Sadie,
” never really imagining the dog would listen to him. Under most conditions, Sadie was a perfectly behaved, well-trained golden retriever, who listened and obeyed her master's commands. At Marlow House, not so much. Ian had come to accept his dog's peculiar behavior when visiting his neighbor's house. Since Danielle didn't mind Sadie's obsession with Marlow House's attic, Ian had given up trying to keep Sadie downstairs.

“Hey girl,” Danielle called out to Sadie, who had just reached the second floor landing.

Wagging her tail, Sadie briefly turned Danielle's way, let out a short bark, and then continued on, charging up the attic stairs to Walt.

Danielle glanced briefly back into her room. Max, who had been sleeping soundly on the end of her bed, had just lifted his head, the dog's noisy arrival disturbing the cat's slumber. Closing his eyes and letting out a lazy yawn—displaying his razor sharp feline teeth—Max dropped his chin back onto his front paws and went back to sleep.

Smiling at Max, Danielle pulled her bedroom door shut, leaving it open several inches so that Max could get out later when he finished napping.

Danielle found Walt upstairs in the attic sitting on the sofa bed, while Sadie danced around on his lap, paws disappearing through Walt's thighs while the dog's tail swished back and forth unencumbered.

“Sadie, off the sofa,” Danielle ordered as she approached them.

“Spoil sport,” Walt teased while he instructed Sadie to do as Danielle commanded. The dog jumped to the floor and curled up on Walt's feet.

“You've been making yourself scarce,” Danielle said as she took a place on the sofa.

“I've been doing a lot of thinking.” He glanced down at Sadie. “I take it Ian is here?”

“I would have assumed you saw him walk over.”

Walt shrugged. “I've been sitting here. I haven't been looking out the window.”

“I heard him come in downstairs a minute ago, and Sadie is here, so yeah, I guess he is.”

“Where's Jack?” Walt asked.

“Unless he's moved on, I assume down with the Eva Aphrodite. He took off right after you disappeared last night.”

“I had nothing more to say to him, especially after all that nonsense he spouted about Howard. Does he really expect me to believe Howard blamed me for the storm? Exactly how does one pay to rustle up a storm?”

Danielle turned on the sofa to face Walt, resting her left elbow on the back cushion. “I don't think Howard was talking about a storm.”

“I doubt Howard said anything. Jack is just trying to deflect. He took that money. He betrayed me, and the powers that be sent him to the Eva Aphrodite to serve out his penance.”

“Actually, Walt, there's a few things I haven't told you.”

Walt studied Danielle. “What few things?”

“Maybe a storm took your yacht down, but it didn't kill the passengers and crew. They were already dead.”

“Don't be absurd; what do you mean already dead?”

“The chief and his men have been going through the boat. They found human remains. Well, not a lot actually. Being under the ocean for that long has a way of making all signs of life—or death—disappear. But, they did find skulls.”

Walt cringed. “I would prefer not to think of my old friends in that way.” He stood up.

“But we have to talk about it.”

Walt walked to the window and looked outside. “What's the point? They've been dead for almost a hundred years.”

“They were murdered, Walt. Each skull came with its own bullet.”

Walt turned from the window and stared at Danielle. “Are you telling me they were shot?”

“According to the chief, each skull they found had a bullet lodged in it. Those people were executed. Someone murdered them. Their deaths had nothing to do with a storm.”

His expression unreadable, Walt made his way back to the sofa and sat down. Staring ahead blankly, he shook his head. “I don't believe this.”

“It's true. And I'll be honest with you; the chief believes you might have been involved.”

With a quick jerk of his head, Walt faced Danielle. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “He believes I killed those people?”

“Or paid to have someone do it. Which apparently is something Howard wondered before his spirit decided to move on.”

“You certainly don't believe that, do you?”

Danielle smiled at Walt. “If I did, I wouldn't be telling you this. The chief wanted me and Lily to move out of Marlow House, while he investigates the murders.”

“Investigates the murders? From over ninety years ago? I imagine the responsible party has long been dead.”

Danielle shrugged. “True. But the chief knows your spirit is here, that you're capable of harnessing energy, and if you had those people killed, he's afraid of what you might be capable of doing if provoked.”

Walt stood angrily and shouted, “I'll show him exactly what I'm capable of doing!”

Danielle chuckled. “Seriously Walt, you're angry at the chief for worrying about Lily and me? Remember how you felt about Harvey?”

“That was different! I had good reason to be worried! Harvey could have gotten you killed.”

“The chief doesn't know you. He's never met you. Put yourself in his shoes. He knows you're confined to Marlow House—that your powers don't extend beyond these walls. So naturally, he would feel more comfortable having us somewhere where you can't reach us. After all, it's not like he can come in and arrest you.”

Letting out a sigh, Walt plopped back down on the sofa. Sadie looked up at him and let out a short bark.

“Fine, Sadie. You don't need to nag,” Walt grumbled.

Danielle glanced down at the dog. “What did she say?”

“It doesn't matter. Just that she agrees with you.”

Reaching down, Danielle ruffled Sadie's fur. “Good girl. Smart dog.”

Walt leaned back and closed his eyes. “Does Lily know about any of this?”

“Yes. She knows the chief wanted us to stay somewhere else until he could learn more.”

Walt opened his eyes and looked at Danielle. “Is Lily afraid to stay here?”

“Obviously not. She's still here. I can't believe you had anything to do with those people's deaths.”

“I didn't. But what I don't understand, why in the world would the chief imagine for a moment I did? I know we've never actually met, but what motive would I have to murder my crew and customers—many who were personal friends—aboard my yacht.”

“Well…umm…I think it had something to do with what Ben told him.”

“Ben?”

“Ben Smith, from the museum.”

“What could he have possibly said?” Walt asked.

“Well, I haven't actually talked to Ben yet.” Danielle stood up. “But apparently, there's an old rumor about you and one of the passengers—a married woman—something about an affair between you two.”

Walt stared at Danielle. Waving a hand, he summonsed a lit cigar and took a puff. Leaning back in the sofa, one leg propped over the opposing knee, Walt studied Danielle. “If I was having an affair with a married woman, and for whatever reason found it inconvenient and wanted to get rid of her, don't you think it would be a bit—overkill—literally—to massacre everyone on board?”

Still standing, Danielle faced Walt. “I didn't say you did it. But you asked why the chief suspected you had something to do with it.”

“Then you can ask the chief the same question I just asked you.”

“I think there was more to it than you being intimately involved with one of the passengers.”

“More, how?”

Danielle shrugged. “I don't know. Like I said, I haven't been able to see Ben yet, to find out all that he told the chief, and the chief seems reluctant to tell me everything Ben said.”

“I thought you and the chief were good friends? That you shared this kind of information with each other.”

“He doesn't tell me everything. And you know I don't tell him everything.”

“True.” Walt took another puff off his cigar.

“There's something else. Not sure what it has to do with the murders, but it's bizarre.” Danielle pulled her iPhone out of her back pocket.

“Bizarre how?”

“Joe found a box on board the Eva Aphrodite. It was filled with old jewelry.” Danielle looked at her phone and opened her photo app, locating the pictures she had taken.

“Old jewelry?”

“Yes. I took these pictures at the chief's office.” Danielle showed Walt the photographs on the iPhone, scrolling through each one.

Walt leaned close to the phone, studying the images. “I recognize those pieces.”

“You should.” Danielle opened the photograph of the three women and showed it to Walt. He studied it for a moment, let out a sigh, and then leaned back in the sofa.

“Nothing remarkable about that. They were all on the Eva Aphrodite when it went missing. Maybe the boat was boarded by pirates, and they removed their jewelry, hid it in a cabin, thinking it would keep them safe.”

“The problem with that scenario is, the items were found in a box—a box that wasn't that old. A box from Walmart.”

“Walmart?”

“It's a store that wasn't around when you were alive. The box still had a price tag from Walmart on it. Plus, the condition of the jewelry was not what one would expect it might be, left all those years in damp salt air. Not to mention, Jack confirmed to me a diver placed the box on the Eva Aphrodite just a day before he brought the boat here.”

Walt said nothing for a few moments, considering all that Danielle had told him. Finally, he looked at her and said, “We have to find out what happened on that boat. I need to know, was Jack involved?”

F
loor to ceiling
bookshelves lined two of the four walls in the darkly paneled room. The impressive collection of leather bound books captured Rowland Sterling's full attention, much to his wife's annoyance.

“You can look at the books later,” Stella told Rowland. “I want to see the sunken ship.”

Danielle wondered if portly Rowland, who was a good head shorter than his wife, had once been the taller spouse. Considering how the woman had been harping at her poor husband since their arrival, Danielle thought it was entirely possible she might have beaten him down over the years.

To Danielle's surprise, he ignored his wife's newest demand and asked, “Did they all belong to Walt Marlow?” By the way his gaze lingered over the collection, Danielle guessed Mr. Sterling was a lover of books.

After checking them into their room downstairs, Danielle had begun to give the older couple a quick tour of the house when the library had stopped Mr. Sterling in his tracks. “Pretty much,” Danielle replied. “I added a few, but most of my books—the ones I brought with me from California—I keep in my room or in the parlor. From what I understand, Walt Marlow was a voracious reader.”

“Rowland,” Stella said impatiently as she tugged on the sleeve of his sweater. “I want to go see it before it gets dark.”

Rowland let out a weary sigh and instead of reminding his wife there was plenty of daylight left, as it was barely 2 p.m., he reluctantly acquiesced to her demand. Turning to Danielle he asked, “Where did you say we can see this boat?”

“It's just up the street. It's a short walk. You'll see the police car parked along the side of the road. You can enter the beach there.”

“And you say Walt Marlow owned it?” Stella asked Danielle as they walked toward the door leading to the front hallway.

“Yes, it was his yacht.”

“Yacht. My, he must have been rich,” Stella said. “But you can't really tell by this house.”

“Stella,” Rowland scolded under his breath.

Danielle glanced at Rowland and smiled, noting the red blush coloring his pale complexion.

“I'm just saying this is a rather ordinary house for someone who owned a yacht. Did he own other homes?” Stella asked.

“Umm…no, just this one. This house was built by his grandfather, Frederick Marlow, who founded the town.” Danielle walked the couple to the front door.

“I think it's a beautiful house,” Rowland said, flashing Danielle an apologetic smile.

A few minutes later, Danielle chuckled to herself as she closed the front door after Rowland and Stella Sterling went off to see the Eva Aphrodite. Mrs. Sterling had heard about the wreckage on the radio during their drive to Frederickport. She was thrilled to discover it had washed up on a beach not far from the bed and breakfast.

Danielle was just heading to the kitchen to talk to Joanne when her cellphone rang. Pulling it from her back pocket, she saw the caller was Chris. Stepping into the parlor, she answered the phone.

“Hi there! How's it going?” she asked.

“Everything's going along as planned,” Chris told her. “How's it going there? Any new developments?”

Danielle took a seat on the sofa and spent the next ten minutes filling Chris in on what had been going on regarding the Eva Aphrodite since their last phone call.

“Never a dull moment in Frederickport. Have your weekend guests arrived?”

“Yes. The couple from Portland, the ones staying in your room—”

“My room?” Chris sounded amused. “You better not let Walt hear you say that. Where is he, by the way?”

Danielle glanced up to the ceiling. “In the attic. Or, at least he was the last time I checked.”

“So what were you saying about the couple from Portland?”

“I put them in the downstairs bedroom, because of the stairs. Retired couple. When they made the reservation, they mentioned something about his artificial knee, and wanted to know if I had a room on the ground floor. I think I told you about the other guest, she's a writer—a mystery writer. Seems very nice and interesting. She's upstairs right now, getting settled in her room. The Portland couple just took off to see the Eva Aphrodite.”

“The writer? Is that the one who's staying a month?”

“Yes. From what I understand, this is a working vacation. She'll be writing a new book here—wants to do it someplace where she'll be inspired.”

Chris laughed. “A haunted house would be the perfect place.”

“In all fairness,” Danielle chuckled, “She doesn't know it's haunted.”

“Any chance you might be able to get away for about an hour or so this afternoon?”

“I suppose. Joanne is here. What do you need?”

“Adam called me. Escrow is scheduled to close on the Gusarov place this afternoon and since I'm not there to do a final walk through with him, I was wondering if you might go over there and do it for me.”

“Sure. But isn't it just a technicality?”

“You never know, maybe some kids got in there within the last couple weeks and vandalized the place. Or the light fixtures decided to fall from the ceilings. You never know. And while I basically trust Adam—”

“He is still Adam,” Danielle finished for him. She could hear Chris chuckle.

“I'd just feel better if you did it with him.”

“No problem. But what if I find a…umm…well, a ghost in residence?”

“You told me Stoddard and Darlene aren't haunting that place.”

“Well, I don't think they are, and neither of us noticed anything when Adam took us over there a couple weeks ago, but still. It's always possible.”

“I don't want a haunted house.”

“Does this mean, if I come across a ghost during the walk through, you want to cancel the deal?”

Chris didn't answer immediately. Finally, he said, “No. I hate seeing a grown man cry. I'm pretty certain if I cancelled now, Adam would start sobbing.”

“Considering you're in Chicago and I'm the one in Frederickport, it would be a dirty trick to leave me with a blubbering Adam to soothe.”

“Not to mention, the last time I looked, cancelling a real estate deal because of ghosts isn't a valid reason.”

“I'll go over there. Do I need to call Adam or is he going to call me?”

“I told him you'd call him if you can go. Thanks Danielle, I appreciate it.”

F
riday's
late afternoon breeze sent the front shrubbery at the Gusarov Estate leaning north, while tree branches brushed repeatedly against the front windows. The landscaping had been severely neglected since Darlene Gusarvo's death. Upstairs, all the blinds remained closed, as did all the window coverings on the lower floor, except for the large picture window in the living room.

Danielle sat in her car, parked in front of the property, waiting for Adam's arrival. She remembered the first time she had seen the estate, after she had first arrived in Frederickport during the past summer. Back then, she had assumed it was an industrial building, considering its massive size and utilitarian feel. The wrought iron fence surrounding the property was its only feature that hinted at resident instead of business.

The sound of a horn honking interrupted Danielle's mental wandering. Glancing up in her rearview mirror, she saw Adam parking his car behind her. Pulling her key from the ignition, she grabbed her purse off the passenger's seat and exited the Flex.

Thirty minutes later Adam and Danielle finished the walk through. She hadn't noticed a single lingering spirit. The rooms were all empty, devoid of both spirits and furniture. Danielle assumed all the furnishings and personal belongings of the Gusarov's had been sold. It reminded her of a blank slate, ready for Chris to transform. It wouldn't be his home, but the new headquarters for his non-profit organization.

Danielle stood on the front porch watching Adam lock up the house.

“Are you still donating that emerald to the museum?” Adam asked as he turned from the front door and slipped the keys into his front pocket.

“Yeah. In fact, I'm supposed to meet with some of the historical society's board members in the morning to discuss it.” Danielle and Adam made their way down the front walk toward the street.

“I still find it odd Heather gave it to you. If you think about it, Walt Marlow didn't actually inherit the original gemstones from the necklace, just the second set.”

“I've pointed that out to Heather on numerous occasions. I even offered to give it back to her after she had to move out of her house because of the mold. I know the repairs cost her a fortune, and considering she'd just lost the Presley property, she needed the money.”

“From what I hear, nothing ever came of that,” he said when they reached the sidewalk.

“You mean, did Morris illegally get ahold of the property?” Danielle asked.

“I know she originally thought that.”

“From what I understand, it turned out Morris got ahold of it legally. Not much she can do about it now. The last time I discussed it with her, sounded like she'd come to the conclusion it was for the best. Heather is big on karma.”

“You mean the sins of the father? Or in this case the sins of the great-grandfather?” Adam walked Danielle to her car.

“Pretty much.”

“Then I suppose it's a good thing I don't have any kids,” Adam said as he opened her car door for her.

Danielle flashed him a bemused smile as she got into the vehicle. “Why do you say that?”

“Think about it. Would be rather unfair to saddle my kids—or theirs—with karma I generated.”

“Ahh, because you're such a bad guy?” Danielle asked with a chuckle as she pulled her car door shut and looked up at Adam through the open window.

“I try,” he said with a laugh.

A
dam's question
about Heather and the emerald prompted Danielle to stop by Heather's before returning to Marlow House. Less than fifteen minutes after leaving Adam, she sat in Heather's kitchen, watching her neighbor prepare them each a cup of green tea. Taking a deep breath, Danielle inhaled a hint of peppermint. She spied a diffuser sitting on the counter in the corner of the kitchen, a stream of steam swirling upward from its lid. Danielle was fairly certain that was the source of the peppermint.

“So what about the emerald?” Heather asked as she handed Danielle a cup of tea and joined her at the table.

“Tomorrow I finalize plans with the museum, and I just wanted to check with you first. Like I said before, I really don't believe I'm the emerald's rightful owner.”

Heather shrugged and took a sip of tea before responding. “Neither am I. You're the closest thing, in my opinion. Plus, I rather like the idea of donating it to the museum. I think you made a good call there.”

“Maybe it should be you who donates the emerald, not me.”

Heather shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. I don't want anything to do with all that. I'm glad you're donating it, but I don't want to be involved. I did what I needed to do; I returned the emerald and sent it on its rightful course.”

An emerald has a destiny?
Danielle asked herself, resisting the urge to giggle.

Heather looked up from her tea, looking Danielle in the eyes, her expression serious. “But now that we're discussing this, there is something I've wanted to talk to you about—without Lily around.”

Danielle took a sip of tea and then set the cup back on its saucer. She studied Heather's almost pleading expression. “What's that?”

“Back on Halloween, after we got out of Presley House, we talked about Harvey. You admitted seeing him. And yet, since that time, it's like none of it ever happened. It's like…well sometimes I wonder…am I crazy?”

With a deep sigh, Danielle glanced down to her tea and then looked back up. Heather, who Danielle often saw as not just quirky, but opinionated and over confident, now reminded her of an uncertain little girl, a look reinforced by her childish black pigtails.