The Ghost from the Sea (14 page)

I
t had been a long day
. Danielle hadn't seen Max since all her guests had returned to Marlow House. She had intended to slip up to the attic and talk to Walt after everyone went to bed, but Hillary Hemingway had left the door to her room wide open.

When Danielle had passed by the open doorway a moment earlier, she noticed Hillary sitting in the easy chair, reading. If Danielle went up to the attic now, Hillary might get curious and follow her upstairs. The last thing Danielle wanted was for her curious mystery writer to catch her in the middle of a conversation with Marlow House's resident ghost. That would be extremely awkward, especially since Hillary couldn't see him.

Danielle climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chest. She sat up, leaned against the headboard, and waited for Walt. Since she hadn't gone up to the attic, she expected Walt to pop into her room and say goodnight. She wanted to finish their conversation Lily and Ian had interrupted earlier. Danielle patiently waited, her hands folded neatly on her lap. Glancing up to the ceiling she whispered, “Walt, hello? Where are you?”

After thirty minutes, Danielle could no longer keep her eyes open. Reluctantly, she leaned over and turned off the side lamp, sending her room into darkness. Scooting down in the covers, she pulled the blankets up to her chin and curled into a fetal position, closing her eyes. Within minutes, she was fast asleep.

A
woman laughed
. Danielle opened her eyes. She looked around and found herself sitting inside what appeared to be a rustic, old-fashioned saloon—yet she wasn't sitting on a chair. Where was she?

Jazz music hammered its tune on a keyboard. Danielle looked down. She sat on an upright piano, her feet dangling in front of the piano player who seemed oblivious to her presence. Letting out a surprised yelp, she pulled up her knees, and wiggled to the end of the piano. From where she perched she had a clear view of the entire room.

A man laughed. Danielle looked to her left. Walt sat on the other end of the piano, dressed in a dark blue pinstripe suit, a lit cigar in his hand.

The sound of the piano dimmed—it was barely audible. In the background, voices and laughter blended into a faint hum.

“What do you think?” Walt asked.

Ignoring her surroundings, Danielle focused on Walt. “I was going to come upstairs to talk to you, but I couldn't. I was hoping you'd come to my room to say goodnight.”

“I'm here now.” He smiled.

“I wanted to tell you, Emma Jackson passed away this afternoon.”

Walt grinned. “Good for her.”

Danielle's face broke into a smile. “Not a reaction I expected.”

Walt cocked his head and shrugged. “The woman had a long, full life. She lived almost four times longer than I did, and now she can see all the people from her life who've already moved on.”

“You think she'll see them?”

“That's what you're always telling me.” Walt grinned. “So, what do you think?”

“Where are we?” Danielle glanced around. “Is this what they call a speakeasy?”

“Yes.”

She guessed there were at least thirty people—some sitting at tables or at the bar, others lingering along the wall, a few standing nearby watching the piano player, and a couple danced at the back of the room. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves. By their dress, she knew the era was the 1920s. While she expected all the women to be dressed as flappers, with short-fringed dresses, that wasn't the case. A few were, but others were dressed in more stylish clothing of the era. One woman wore a stone marten fox stole, with the heads and feet of the poor dead foxes dangling from her shoulders.

Danielle cringed. “That's disgusting.”

“What?” Walt looked in the direction of Danielle's stare.

“Those poor dead animals. Why would anyone want to drape dead foxes around their shoulders? Did they really think that was attractive?”

“That's Thelma Templeton.”

Danielle wrinkled her nose. “Oh yuck. You actually had a thing with her?” If Danielle were honest with herself, she would have to admit Thelma was an attractive woman, with short coal black hair, alabaster skin, and delicate features. Tall and slender, she held a long stemmed cigarette holder in one hand and she punctuated the air with its lit cigarette while she chatted with those around her. Yet it was Thelma's gruesome stole Danielle couldn't see past.

“I told you, there was never anything between me and Thelma Templeton. I just thought it would be easier for me to prove my point if I let you see her.”

Screwing up her face into a lopsided frown, Danielle studied the woman. “Okay, I admit she is attractive. At least she would be if she got rid of at horrid fox stole.”

Walt let out a sigh, his gaze still on Thelma. “I suppose you need to listen to her, to understand.”

Danielle shook her head. “No, no, I don't want to listen to her. I've no desire to listen to anyone who would wear something like that.”

Walt chuckled. “Danielle, not to sound—as Lily calls it—sexist—but Thelma Templeton is dumb as a stump.”

Danielle turned to Walt. “I suppose that explains her fashion accessory. But since when did men care about a mistress' intelligence?”

Walt glared at Danielle. “That is insulting. I expected better of you.”

Danielle let out a sigh. “I'm sorry. I guess you're right. So tell me about Thelma.”

“For one thing, she flirts entirely too much for a married woman. See those two men she's talking with?”

“Yes. They don't seem to have a problem with her intelligence, considering the way they're drooling all over her.”

“She isn't married to either of them.” Walt pointed to a man sitting at the bar. “That's Howard Templeton.”

Danielle looked to the bar. The man Walt pointed to was busy talking to the bartender, while he sipped his drink. If he was concerned over his wife's flirtatious behavior, he didn't show it.

“Explain something to me,” Danielle asked.

“What's that?”

“Obviously this is a dream hop. I'm not coming up with all this myself; you're doing it. So is this place like a speakeasy you used to go to back when you were alive? Did Thelma really wear that disgusting stole, or was that something you added?”

Walt leaned back against the wall and smiled at Danielle. “I would have thought you already knew. Remember what you told me about Harvey's dream hop, when you were trapped at Presley House?”

With a shudder Danielle said, “I don't want to talk about snakes.”

“I'm not talking about that dream hop—or dream nightmare—Harvey put you through. I'm talking about when Harvey showed you, in a dream, how he was killed. And later, he took you to the beach to show you how they got rid of his body, and then you went to the cemetery.”

“What are you saying?” Danielle asked.

“Some dream hops are nothing more than visits with a spirit, that create an environment from the imagination—either mine or yours.”

“Like when we go sailing or when you took me to Hawaii?”

“Exactly. Other dream hops, such as this one or the ones I just mentioned that Harvey took you on, are a little like a movie, replaying what occurred in the past.”

“So you're saying this speakeasy really existed, and all these people were once here, just as they are now? With Thelma flirting with those men and her husband drinking at the bar?”

“Yes. And if I'm not mistaken, in a couple of minutes I'll be walking through that door.” Walt pointed to the door on the other side of the room.

“What?” Danielle looked quickly from Walt to the door.

He reached over and offered Daniele a hand. “Let's get off this thing. This piano player keeps hammering away on my feet, and I'd like to turn the sound up so you can hear what's being said.”

Danielle flashed Walt a grin as they jumped off the piano. Just as Walt said, the door opened and he walked in. He wasn't alone. Danielle recognized the other man. It was Jack. They walked together to the bar.

“This was just a week before the Eva Aphrodite went missing,” Walt explained.

“If you can do this, couldn't you take us to the boat on the night it went down, so we could see what happened?”

Walt laughed. “That would be a good trick, but no. I was actually here, which is why I'm able to recreate what happened.”

“You weren't here before you walked in that door just now,” Danielle reminded.

“That's true, but if you notice, until I walked in the door with Jack, no one really moved from where they were standing or sitting. I simply created the scene as I remembered it looked when I walked in with Jack.”

“Drat, I'd love to eavesdrop on Thelma, but I guess that isn't possible.”

“I assume whatever we hear will be what I heard back then—not what was said out of earshot.”

“Too bad. We might be able to figure out why her friend thought you two were having an affair.”

“You believe me now?”

Danielle shrugged. “Well, the way you are with Sadie, I just don't see you cozying up with some woman wearing dead dogs around her neck. Maybe not dogs exactly, but close enough.”

Walt chuckled. “You really do hate that stole, don't you?”

“I really do.”

“Let's go over and see what Jack and I are talking about,” Walt suggested.

Danielle started walking toward the bar when she paused, and looked at Walt. “Wait a minute; you've never taken me on one of these types of dreams before. How did you know how to do it? That it would work?”

“After you told me about those dream hops with Harvey, I began wondering if there was more I could do with a dream hop than I imagined. Would it be possible to recreate a scene from my past, and once there, would everyone do and say what happened back then, at least what I observed when it originally occurred? So I tested it out.”

“Tested it how? On who?” When Walt didn't answer, Danielle repeated the question.

“Marie. I tried it on Marie.”

“You took Marie on a dream hop?”

“I figured she would just assume she was dreaming about her childhood. I slipped into her dream, took her back to when she lived across the street with her parents, when she was just a baby.”

“And it worked?”

“Yes. We didn't stay long, because she recognized me, and began asking me all sorts of questions. It worked—but I cut it short.”

“So I'm assuming she was there in the dream with you like she is today, a 90 year old woman, with you by her side, and in the room was her other self, her as a baby—and her parents?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting. Surprising she never mentioned it.”

They were about to continue on to the bar when Thelma was suddenly by her side with one of the men she had been talking with. They paused, looking to the bar.

“Is that Walt Marlow?” Thelma asked.

The man by her side looked over. “Yea.”

“Howard and I are going out this weekend in his boat.”

“Wish I could afford that,” the man grumbled.

Thelma laughed. “We've gone out a number of times. Walt Marlow's never been out on the boat with us, I suppose he's too busy making moonshine in his basement.” She laughed again and made her way to her husband, while the man she had been talking to walked in the opposite direction.

Danielle glanced at Walt, who stared at Thelma with an odd expression.

“Improvising, Walt?” Danielle asked.

With a frown, he glanced from Thelma to Danielle. “I don't understand. I didn't hear that conversation when I was here before—I had no idea what she said back then. Look where I'm sitting at the bar. There's no way I overheard her.”

“Do you think that's really what Thelma said back then, or did you subconsciously improvise her conversation?” Danielle asked.

Confused, he stared at Thelma, who leaned against her husband, sipping her drink. “I have no idea.”

J
ack
from the dream stood up, said something to the Walt sitting next to him, and then walked to the piano player.

Spirit Walt grabbed hold of Danielle's wrist and said, “This is what I wanted you to hear.” He pulled her to the bar and stood next to his former self, who sat quietly, sipping a drink.

Danielle looked from the Walt sitting at the bar to the Walt at her side. “You know, you really haven't changed much.”

“This was only a few years before I died.”

A few seats down, Howard stood up and walked away, leaving Thelma alone. Danielle watched as Thelma's gaze followed her husband, who a moment later left the speakeasy from a door on the opposite side of the room from where Walt and Jack had entered. Once the door closed behind Howard, Thelma picked up her glass and scooted down the bar to Walt, standing by his side.

Spirit Walt and Danielle silently listened to the exchange.

“Hello, Walt Marlow?” Thelma asked in a flirtatious tone.

Walt turned to her, a bored expression on his face. “Yes?”

“I'm Thelma Templeton, we met at Sissy Bancoff's party.”

Walt nodded. “Yes, I know who you are. You're Howard's wife.”

Sipping her drink, she let out an exaggerated sigh. “Howard had to leave. He had some silly appointment.”

When Walt didn't respond, she leaned toward him and asked, “Howard and I are going out on your boat this weekend, and I was wondering, will you be onboard?”

Walt studied her a moment, and then took a sip of his drink. “No. I've a prior appointment.”

Thelma's gaze darted to her right. She spied Jack walking back in their direction. In a rush, she reached out and touched Walt's right hand, which rested on the bar top, still holding his drink. Expressionless, his gaze looked down at her hand on his.

“Maybe sometime you could take me out on it, a private cruise. Just the two of us. We could go now.”

Walt jerked his hand from her touch and took a swig of his drink. He then looked Thelma in the eyes. “The Eva Aphrodite always has a full crew. It will never be just the two of us.”

Thelma looked as if she had been slapped. The next moment, Jack reached the bar as Thelma abruptly turned from Walt. Not saying a word to either man, she rushed away, abandoning her drink on the bar top. She retreated to a friendlier section of the speakeasy.

“Wow, you were cold,” Danielle said with a chuckle. “I don't think I've ever seen you look at anyone with that expression of contempt before.”

“What was that all about?” Jack asked. Leaning an elbow against the bar top, he glanced across the room to where Thelma had landed. She stood alone by the piano player, watching him play.

“Dumb Dora at it again,” Walt chuckled.

“It was only a matter of time she got around to you,” Jack snickered.

“No thanks.” Walt downed the rest of his drink.

Jack glanced over to Thelma. He picked up Thelma's forgotten drink. The glass was half-full. “I think she forgot something.”

Walt turned to Jack and frowned. “You aren't serious?”

Jack shrugged, and then said with a laugh, “Unlike you, I like them dumb.”

Danielle watched Walt's reaction—the Walt sitting at the bar, not the spirit Walt at her side. He didn't seem overly concerned with his friend's intentions and ordered another drink.

“So you really didn't know each other very well?” Danielle asked.

“I knew who she was. Her reputation wasn't a secret in our circles. Sissy Bancoff's party wasn't the first time we'd run into each other. Just the first time we'd exchanged more than ten words.”

Danielle looked across the room to where Jack now stood with Thelma. He had just handed her the drink.

“So did they get together?” Danielle asked.

“Watch,” Walt said with a brief chuckle.

Danielle watched, and a moment later Thelma and Jack walked through the same doorway her husband had gone through not that long ago.

“Shouldn't we follow them? See what they're saying? Maybe we'll find a clue to what happened on the Eva Aphrodite. There must be some reason Jack's spirit went to the wreckage.”

“And you're the one who's always telling me I can't snoop on the guests when they're in their bedrooms.” Walt laughed.

Ignoring Walt's comment, Danielle grabbed him by the hand and started dragging him toward the doorway Thelma and Jack had just gone through. Walt went along without protest. When they reached the door, Danielle tried opening it, but her hand went through the doorknob, as when ghosts try, without success, to grab hold of an object.

“Just walk through the door, I think that will work,” Walt suggested.

Danielle glanced back at Walt, her hand still holding his. “Really?”

Walt gave her a nod. With a shrug, Danielle took Walt's suggestion. Together, she and Walt moved effortlessly through the wooden door.

Once on the other side, nothing was as Danielle had expected. They were no longer inside, and any sign of the speakeasy had vanished. Instead, they stood in open space, as if walking on clouds.

“What happened?” Danielle looked around. “Where did they go? Where's the door we just walked through?”

“That speakeasy has several entrances. I know the door we just went through leads to another room and then to the outside. Jack usually enters that way, I never did.”

Danielle looked around again. “So they're just gone?”

Walt shrugged. “I'm sorry Danielle. Like you, I don't know how all this works. This rather proves my original assumption; I can't recreate what once happened unless I was present at the time.”

“But we heard what Thelma said about you to that man. It was a conversation you'd never heard before.”

“True. But my former self was sitting just a few feet away. Perhaps that makes a difference.”

“Did Jack ever tell you what happened between him and Thelma?””

Walt shook his head. “I never asked. Frankly, I didn't really care.”

“I thought Jack was seeing someone? Some woman who lived at a local motel with her aunt and uncle.”

Walt shrugged. “He was.”

Danielle rolled her eyes. “That dog.”

A
fter breakfast on Sunday morning
, Danielle walked her guests out the front door. Hillary Hemingway planned to do some sightseeing. The couple from Portland was staying another night, and they were on their way to the pier. Danielle told them it was an easy walk, but Mrs. Sterling didn't seem inclined to walking. Danielle stood by her front swing and watched them drive off—the Sterlings in their car, and Hillary in hers. She was just about to go back into the house when another vehicle pulled up in front of Marlow House and parked. It was Chief MacDonald.

“Morning Chief!” Danielle greeted. She noted he wore street clothes, not his uniform, and the car he had been driving was his own, not a squad car.

“Morning Danielle. I'm glad to catch you outside,” the chief said when he reached her.

“Outside, what do you mean?”

He glanced up to the attic window. “I wanted to talk to you without Walt listening in.”

“About Walt; you were wrong,” she insisted.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“Sure, but we can go in the house.”

He shook his head. “No. I don't want him listening in.”

Danielle let out a sigh, and then motioned to the porch swing. Together she and the chief sat down.

“You were wrong about Walt. He wasn't having an affair with Thelma. They barely knew each other.” Danielle's toe of her right foot lightly pushed against the ground, keeping the swing in gentle motion.

“Danielle, you need to read the diary. I know Walt is your friend but—”

“Would you hear me out, Chief?”

“Okay, what do you have?”

Danielle went on to tell the chief about her dream hop the previous night. When she was finished the chief looked at her a moment before commenting.

“That's it? That's why you don't think he was Thelma's lover?”

“They barely knew each other. This all happened just days before the Eva Aphrodite went missing. You weren't there; there's no way those two were having an affair.”

“Maybe you weren't there either.”

Danielle frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It was a dream, Danielle. What makes you think it was any less make believe than the other dream hops he's taken you on. It was fantasy.”

“My Christmas dream was not just make believe,” she insisted, her expression somber.

“Maybe that one wasn't. But you have to admit, this really proves nothing. I can believe it possible for spirits to visit you, like in your Christmas dream. But for Walt to conjure up something that happened in his past, and then it plays back like a recording, even playing back something Walt never heard in his life, no. I don't believe that. He created that dream, and everyone that was in it. He wrote the script. It proves nothing.”

Danielle pushed her right foot on the ground, stopping the swing. “You're wrong. And I'll prove it.”

“I didn't come here to argue with you.”

Danielle looked at him, her expression hostile. “Why did you come?”

“We found more skeletons on the ship. But one was different. It was in a trunk.”

“Yeah, Stella mentioned that.”

“Stella?” he frowned.

“One of our guests. She and her husband were down at the beach watching when your guys were taking a trunk off the boat. They overheard one of your people saying something about finding another body.”

“Unlike the others, his skeleton was still intact. He wasn't shot in the head. Looks like they got him in the chest. We found a bullet under his ribcage.”

“You're sure it was a man?”

“That was our initial feeling, based on the clothing remnants we found in the trunk. But the coroner confirmed it.” The chief reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag. “We're hoping this might help us identify him.” He handed the small transparent bag to Danielle. It contained a man's ring. Holding the baggie in her hand, she stared, speechless.

“It's a Masonic ring,” he explained. “We've contacted the local lodge, hoping they might be able to help us. No one with those initials was listed on the passenger list.”

Still staring at the ring in the bag, she asked, “You mentioned there was some fabric—from his clothes. Can you tell me what kind of fabric? Color, anything?”

“Pinstripe fabric. Looked gray, but it might have been blue at one time. There are initials inside the ring; that should help.”

Clutching the bag in her hand, Danielle said, “J.W.”

“Excuse me?”

“The initials are J.W.”

The chief frowned. “How did you know that? There's no way you saw the initials.”

“Because I've already met the spirit attached to the body you found. It's Jack Winters, Walt's business partner who disappeared with their money at the same time the Eva Aphrodite went missing. He's the one I saw on the boat, the one I talked to. This is his ring. I saw it on him—the spirit him.” Danielle handed the small bag back to the chief.

“Did Walt murder his business partner?”

Danielle let out a groan. “Don't go there chief.”

“Obviously, there is nothing I can do to Walt. I just worry about you and Lily.”

Danielle stood up. “I'm going to figure this out and you can stop worrying.”