The Ghost from the Sea (22 page)

“Sounds like maybe she thought there was treasure on board, and didn't want someone else getting to it before her,” Danielle suggestion.

“He started asking her some questions, and she got a little weird, and then she just hung up.”

Danielle frowned. “Weird?”

“Didn't want to answer any of his questions.”

“Did she call him on his cell phone? Did he try calling her back?” Danielle asked.

“Yes. And this is where it gets interesting. He got the museum.”

“The museum?”

“The line the woman called him on—it was from the Frederickport Museum.”

“Who was it?”

The chief shook his head. “I don't know. The museum message machine picked up when he called. He has no idea who the woman was. And he never followed up on it. All he knows is, whoever made that phone call, made it from the museum.”

I
t wasn't dark yet
. There was still a good hour and a half left of daylight. But Danielle knew the sun would be down when she closed up the museum, so she parked as close to the entrance as possible. While Frederickport was generally a safe little town, if you didn't consider the dead bodies Danielle had tripped over during the last eight months—like her cousin Cheryl, Bart Haston, or Peter Morris—she still didn't like wandering around downtown alone after nightfall.

Letting herself into the museum with the key Ben had given her, she quickly relocked the door behind her and punched the security code into the alarm system. The lights were turned off, but there was enough sunlight streaming in the front window to illuminate the museum entrance without turning on the overhead lighting. Setting the keys and her purse on the front counter leading into the gift shop, Danielle looked down the darkened hallway leading to the exhibit area of the museum.

Nightlights, plugged into random electrical sockets throughout the building, broke up the darkness, providing a soft glow. Walking down the dimly lit hallway en route to the exhibits, a scene from Ben Stiller's
Night at the Museum
flashed through her mind. For most people, that movie was nothing more than a fanciful comedy.
Museum exhibits don't come to life
. She knew differently. Taking a deep breath, Danielle decided to see what Eva Thorndike had to say before she tackled the diary.

Since Eva had died a few years before the yacht went missing, Danielle doubted Eva's spirit would have any pertinent information regarding the true fate of the passengers and crew, especially if she had spent almost a century hanging out with her portrait. Yet, according to Eva's words earlier, she had something to say about Walt.

Stepping into the exhibit area, Danielle glanced around. To her right was the natural history exhibit, the once-live wildlife creatures frozen in time by the taxidermist. On the other side of the room was the Marlow Shipping Line exhibit with its intricate models, identical replicas of the ships once built by Frederick Marlow's company. Beyond that was an exhibit on the local fishing industry, while other exhibits highlighted points of local and state history.

Taking another deep breath, Danielle steeled her nerves and focused on the center of the room, the location of the Thorndike exhibit. A nightlight's glow bounced off a glass case, landing on the portrait's face, eerily illuminating its eyes.

Stepping up to the portrait, Danielle paused when she was about three feet away. Staring at the illuminated eyes she said, “Hello Eva, I'm back.”

Nothing.

Another deep breath and sigh. “It's me. Danielle Boatman. You said you knew I was coming. How did you know?”

Nothing.

“I'm alone. We can talk now, if you show yourself.”

Still nothing.

Danielle stood in front of the portrait for another ten minutes, yet there wasn't a glimmer or sign to indicate the presence of Eva's spirit in the room. Tired of waiting, Danielle stepped away from the portrait and made her way to the office at the back of the building.

It hadn't been necessary to turn on any lights as she walked through the museum. The nightlights provided sufficient illumination. But once in the office, she flipped the switch for the overhead fixture, flooding the room with flickering florescent light.

She found the diary in Ben's side desk drawer, just where he told her it would be. Sitting down at the desk, she opened the weathered leather bound book and began thumbing through its pages.

Ethel Pearson's elegant cursive penmanship flowed from page to page. The style of writing appeared fairly consistent throughout the diary, yet there were periodic changes of letter size and ink density. Danielle was grateful to find the handwriting legible. She had read vintage handwritten documents in the past, often finding them nearly impossible to decipher. Not so with Ethel Pearson's diary.

Settling back comfortably in the swivel chair, Danielle skimmed the pages, moving over such tedious entries as Ethel's detailed account of her visit to the dressmaker. When Danielle came to the next entry mentioning the same dressmaker, she almost skipped forward without reading the pages, when a reference to Thelma jumped out at her. Pausing, Danielle read the page and then realized she had missed something. Curious, she turned back one page and read the entire day's entry.

I stopped at the dressmaker today for my final fitting. Thelma Templeton went with me to pick up a gown she had altered. Thelma has lost so much weight; I have been so worried about her. But I had no idea how bad it truly was. She insisted on trying on the dress alone, and wouldn't allow anyone to help her. I have never known her to be so shy. Thinking her silly, I entered the dressing room intending to help her. She was furious with me. And then I saw the reason for her inhibition. The length of her back was blackened with bruises. I wanted to weep. She swore me to silence. When I asked if Howard had done this, she only laughed.

Danielle flipped through more pages, until she came to another entry discussing Thelma.

Thelma has admitted she has taken a lover and he was responsible for the bruises. She told me I didn't understand, that he simply loves her so much and often gets frustrated that she can't leave her husband.

Danielle looked up from the diary, taking a moment to reflect. Why a woman would choose to stay with a man who abused her, she didn't understand. Shaking her head, she began to read again. The next entry of interest mentioned Walt.

I was mortified this evening at the Templeton's when I was caught lingering outside the door of Howard's study. It really wasn't my fault. The heated exchange between Howard and Ralph over a business endeavor Ralph wishes to enter into with Walt Marlow was simply too delicious to ignore. I'm hoping Thelma can tell me more when we are able to talk.

Danielle paused a moment.
Howard, that must be Thelma's husband. Jolene's grandfather—Howard's brother—was named Ralph. Is this the same Ralph
? Danielle continued reading.

Thelma has finally confessed the name of her lover. It is Walt Marlow. I was surprised she finally revealed his name; I have asked her so many times only to be met with resolute silence. She told me after I asked her about the argument in the study. She explained Howard suspects the affair, which is why he opposes his brother's business proposition with Walt Marlow.

Danielle looked up from the page for a moment. “Why did Thelma lie?” Danielle asked aloud. After rereading the passage, she mumbled, “I guess that answers my other question, it was the same Ralph.” With a sigh, she continued reading.

Another cuckhold husband might be tempted to divorce his wife and endure the scandal, or have her put away discretely; but I don't see that happening with Thelma, considering her inheritance. Howard will endure what he must to keep his golden goose.

“Oh really?” Danielle smirked. “So Thelma had her own money?”

Danielle continued to skim through the diary, paying special attention to any passages mentioning Thelma. She began to wonder why Ben entertained the idea that Walt was behind the murders. It wasn't until she came to an entry posted just two weeks prior to the Eva Aphrodite's fateful voyage that she had her answer.

Thelma cancelled our luncheon date, claiming to be ill. I knew Howard is still away on business and won't be home until the weekend, so I decided to check in on her. I was shocked at what I found! She was all alone, not even her personal maid was there. She had sent them all away. I suspect so they wouldn't see her drunk.

Yes, drunk. I have never seen her like this. I am glad I stopped by because frankly, I believe the poor girl intended to do herself more harm than what just comes from the bottom of a bottle.

She ranted, “He left me! Me, who is he to leave me?” I asked her if she meant Howard, wondering if perhaps he could no longer endure the knowledge his wife was having an affair. She laughed, told me, that to her grief, Howard would never leave her. I then asked her if she meant Walt Marlow. She just looked at me for a moment and began to sob. She is heartbroken.

When she finally stopped sobbing, she confessed she had threatened him. At first, I assumed she meant physically harm him, but then she told me she intended to ruin him. Foolishly, she also expressed this intent to Walt Marlow, who countered with his own threat, yet his was more deadly. He threatened to kill her. And yet, she still loves him.

Danielle shook her head and said aloud, “Thelma obviously told Ethel her lover threatened her life, and Ethel assumes that's Walt.”

An entry the following week again mentioned Thelma.

I can't stand by and do nothing. I must help my friend, even if she doesn't want it. She may never forgive me, but I have no choice. I went to Howard Templeton's office this morning. I explained Walt Marlow had seduced Thelma, that it wasn't her fault. She is just a vulnerable woman. I explained Marlow does not want the affair revealed, I assume because he does not want to jeopardize whatever business arrangement he is attempting to put together with Howard's brother. Marlow obviously understands Ralph will walk away if he discovers Walt is having an affair with his sister-in-law.

I was so nervous, but I managed to have my say. When I was done, Howard sat there stoically, saying nothing. I began to regret going to him, but then he stood up, took my hands in his and told me he appreciated me coming to him, that I was a true friend to Thelma. He promised he would take care of everything and he would keep Thelma safe. That dear man really does love his wife.

Danielle looked up from the pages and considered Ethel's words. “That might explain Howard's parting comments about Walt before he moved on. He obviously believed Walt was his wife's lover—and that he had threatened to kill her.”

“Walt would never hurt anyone,” a female voice said from the hallway.

Danielle looked toward the voice. It was Eva Thorndike, her transparent vision almost glowing as she stood in the office doorway.

C
losing the diary
, Danielle set it on Ben's desk and stood up, facing the apparition. “I didn't think you were here.”

Eva smiled. “I wasn't. But I am now.” Her vision floated into the room, ethereal and glowing, nothing like Walt's presence, or even Jack's. Should Danielle happen upon either Jack or Walt, and not already know they were spirits, she would initially believe them to be flesh and blood men. Not so with Eva. This Eva Thorndike was the epitome of the haunting spirit—the classical feminine specter cast in countless ghost stories.

“Why haven't I ever seen you at the museum before—before this afternoon?”

“I rarely come here. Although I do occasionally. After all, they do have my portrait.”

“I just assumed you'd were in some way attached to your portrait.”

“Haunting the museum?” Eva asked, sounding highly amused.

Danielle smiled. “Yes.”

Eva laughed and waved one hand in dramatic flourish. “This would be a rather tedious venue to spend one's eternity, don't you think?”

“I suppose,” Danielle muttered lamely, suddenly feeling immensely inadequate next to Eva Thorndike. She was even more beautiful than her portrait.
No wonder Walt fell madly in love with her. What man wouldn't be captivated, by her looks alone?
“Why are you here at all? Why haven't you moved on?”

“It's much too bright in this room; come with me,” Eva said, floating back into the hallway.

Danielle followed Eva to the Thorndike exhibit. Once there, Eva perched atop the glass display cabinet housing the emerald. She sat in front of her portrait, striking a flattering pose, and smiled down at Danielle.

“Why haven't you moved on?” Danielle asked again.

“Move on? I was far too young to die. I wasn't ready; I had things I still wanted to do. Maybe I couldn't prevent my death, but I refuse to be rushed along in my journey, especially since I'm not ready to leave.”

“So you've been here all this time?” Danielle asked. “You've never tried to move on?”

“I'm not ready, and they can't force me,” she said stubbornly.

“If you haven't spent the last hundred years with your portrait, where have you been?”

Eva sighed. “For a while, I stayed with Walt. He had been so good to me—taken care of me when I needed him most, asking nothing in return. I loved him like a brother. I wish I would have loved him—differently. Loved him, like I know he loved me. But then, I was always a fool.”

“A fool?”

“The men I chose.” Eva shook her head. “Horrible choices. But staying with Walt proved most frustrating.”

“How so?” Danielle glanced around. She spied a chair sitting not far from the exhibit. Still listening to Eva, she quickly grabbed the chair, pulled it up to the Thorndike exhibit, and sat down. Fascinated with what Eva had to say, she continued to listen.

“He got involved with that horrid Angela. He had spent all those years pining over me—drifting from one meaningless relationship to another, when she dug her greedy claws into him, and the foolish man thinks he's in love! I tried to stop him, but of course, he wasn't like you. He had no idea I had been with him all those years.”

“Were you there when her brother killed him?”

Eva sighed. “I knew it was going to happen, and I knew I couldn't prevent it. Having the freedom of movement comes with a price.”

“You can't harness your energy?” Danielle asked.

Eva frowned. “Harness my energy?”

“You can't move objects, right?”

Eva shook her head. “No. Sometimes I can make the lights flicker. Once I managed to bust a light bulb, but that's about it. I suppose if I settled somewhere, stayed in one place, I would accumulate the necessary energy to make my presence known. But why? I don't want to be tied to one place. I want to move freely, explore the world.”

“Were you there when Walt was killed?”

Eva shook her head. “I couldn't stop it, and I didn't want to watch it. And I didn't want to be there when Walt's spirit self awakened. Our souls are not destined to be together for eternity, and I didn't want to confuse him. I'd hurt him enough when we were both alive. I felt it best to move on.”

“If you were with Walt until his brother-in-law plotted to kill him, then you must have been there when the Eva Aphrodite went missing.”

Eva smiled softly. “He named his yacht after me. I always thought that so sweet of him.”

“Do you know why Thelma Templeton told her friend, Ethel, that Walt was her lover?”

“I have no idea what was in that woman's mind. But I'll tell you, Walt never had anything to do with Thelma. I remember once Walt was having drinks with a friend when he ran into her and her husband. The husband left, and she approached Walt, making it very clear to him she would be interested in something—more intimate.”

Danielle remembered Walt's dream hop and the speakeasy. She suspected that was the incident Eva was referring to.

“Of course, Thelma Templeton was on the rebound.”

“Rebound?”

Eva sighed. “I didn't spend all my time by Walt's side. I'm afraid I'd get a little bored doing that. Sometimes, I would check in on my ex-husband.”

“The one who switched the diamonds and emeralds in your necklace?”

“Like I said, I had a horrible taste in men. Although, in fairness to myself, I was not the only woman to fall under his spell. Thelma was quite besotted with the rogue.”

“Are you suggesting Thelma Templeton's lover was your ex-husband?”

“He was handsome—I can't really blame her. And he did have a way with the ladies. Of course, when he was ready to move on, he moved on.”

“Marie said something about Thelma having an affair with an actor. Your husband was an actor, wasn't he?”

“Yes. Not a very good one. But he didn't need to be as long as the wealthy ladies paid his bills. Unfortunately, Anthony bored easily.”

“Anthony, that was your husband's name?”

“Yes.”

“According to Ethel's diary, she walked in on Thelma dressing, and discovered her back covered with bruises. Thelma claimed it was the work of her lover, which at the time she led Ethel to believe was Walt.”

“Walt would never hit a woman. Never. Anthony, on the other hand, had a violent temper. If provoked—he wouldn't hesitate using his fist on a woman. That's why I finally left him.”

“He hit you? Did Walt know?”

Eva laughed. “Tell Walt that Anthony hit me? Are you insane? It was bad enough when he discovered Anthony had stolen from me. No, I never told him. I think my mother may have suspected. My father knew, which is how I managed to get my marriage annulled so quickly. I put up with a lot from Anthony, but I wasn't going to be his punching bag.”

“According to Ethel's diary, Thelma's lover broke it off with her—I'm assuming that was Anthony?”

“Probably. I'll be honest; I stopped checking on Anthony around that time. He had just taken up with a new woman, one with even more money than Thelma. Plus, she was a widow. I saw what he was doing. He intended to marry her, as he had married me. The difference with this new woman was that she had already come into her full inheritance and was a rich widow. I didn't want to watch, so I never saw Anthony again.”

“I imagine this new woman wouldn't have been thrilled to discover she wasn't the only one he was seeing.”

Eva laughed. “No she wouldn't. From what I recall, she was a rather demanding woman. Attractive, but a few years older than Anthony. She had never had children, so there was nothing in his way—aside from his relationship with Thelma.”

“Do you have any idea who killed those people on the Eva Aphrodite?” Danielle asked.

Eva moved from the display case and stood before Danielle. She shook her head solemnly. “No, but their spirits have been interestingly active recently.”

“You're talking about the people who were murdered on the ship?”

“Yes. I had no idea back then anyone had been murdered. Just because some of us reside in the spirit realm does not necessarily mean we are aware of all that's going on around us.”

“Just like in real life,” Danielle muttered.

“Yes. But for me, this is my real life…or perhaps, my real death.”

“So what did you mean when you said they have been interestingly active recently?”

“I periodically stop in at the museum, which is how I happened to hear about the ship washing up on shore. And then I heard the people had been murdered. I went down to the beach to see for myself. There were flashes of those souls, calling out to me, demanding the truth finally be told. But they were behind a wall. So there was only so much they could do.”

Danielle frowned. “Behind a wall?”

“Yes. Not a wall as you might know it, but a wall nevertheless. Once one passes over, there are very limited ways one can return or communicate with the living—or with the souls like me, who have refused to move on.”

“Walt's still at Marlow House,” Danielle blurted out.

Eva smiled softly. “Yes, I know.”

“He can't leave. He's confined there. When he wants to move on he can, but until he does, he can't venture beyond Marlow House's walls.”

“Yes, I know.”

Danielle cocked her head slightly and studied Eva. “If you know he's been there all these years, why haven't you ever tried to make contact with him? Visit your old friend. He can't leave Marlow House, but I imagine you could go there.”

Eva shook her head. “No Danielle. I told you, it would only confuse things. Someday, when we both move on, we can meet again as friends. But while we're here, it's better this way.”

“Don't you want to move on?”

“I told you! I'm much too young! I still have so much to do!” Eva laughed gaily and then vanished.

“Eva?” Danielle glanced around. “Eva?”

The room felt different somehow. It felt as it had when she had first arrived at the museum and had approached the portrait. Eva Thorndike's spirit was no longer in the building.

“Wow. There was so much more I wanted to ask her.”

Danielle returned to the office and picked up the diary. Sitting back down in the office chair, she opened the book and began reading where she had left off.

It was dark when Danielle finished reading. When she was done, she placed the book back in the drawer and pulled out her cellphone. She called Chief MacDonald. Initially she intended to tell Walt about Eva before mentioning anything to the chief, but considering the chief's obsession with Walt's possible guilt, she didn't want to wait.

“You can stop worrying about Walt,” Danielle announced when the chief answered the phone.

“Danielle? Where are you?”

“I'm at the museum.”

“At this time at night? Isn't it closed? Are they having a meeting or something?”

“I came down to read the diary, remember?”

“Not sure how you arrived at the conclusion that Walt is not a danger. I read that diary too.”

“Yes, but you didn't talk to Eva Thorndike.”

“Eva Thorndike? Are you talking about that woman in the portrait?”

“Yes, and she's even more beautiful in person. Well…not in person exactly…in spirit?”

“Are you telling me Eva Thorndike haunts the Frederickport museum?”

“Don't be silly Chief. The museum would be a rather tedious venue to spend one's eternity, don't you think?”