The Ghost of Marlow House (Haunting Danielle Book 1) (11 page)

Ian Bartley walked along the seashore
with Sadie, carrying his shoes and leash in one hand and holding the cellphone
to his ear with the other. Oregon beaches were not as warm as those he was used
to in Southern California. He wore denims instead of shorts with his t-shirt
and light jacket. While he was more accustomed to a warmer July along the
ocean, he appreciated the fact the shoreline here wasn’t crowded. It was also
clean—he hadn’t seen any litter on the beach since he had arrived.

“She met with Marie…No, I lied…What else
could I do?” Ian said into the phone. “I don’t think she said anything. But if
she did, Lily will tell me...That is none of your business…I won’t…I doubt she
could connect me with my alter ego…Internet search? The woman is ninety…I think
you’re worried about nothing…No, they’re clueless…It’s possible…They haven’t…Lily,
why?...That is none of your business…I won’t…By the way there’s a great
portrait of Marlow and his wife in the library…No the library in Marlow
House…Yes, it has a library.  More of a large study with book shelves…Not yet,
but I plan to take my camera over there…she said it was okay…no, not Boatman, Lily…I
don’t think so…Yes we’ll use it…...Alright, talk to you later.”

Ian disconnected from the call and
slipped the phone in his jacket’s pocket.  He gave a little whistle to Sadie
and started jogging back toward the boardwalk. Sadie ran along by his side.

When he reached the sidewalk he slipped
his shoes back on, then reached down and hooked the leash on Sadie’s collar
before heading back to the rental house. He paid little attention to the two
men he passed on the sidewalk—the two men Lily had talked to at Pier Café when
he had taken her out to breakfast.

The two men made an unlikely pair. Adam
wore dress slacks, a neatly pressed button down shirt and brown loafers, while
his companion wore faded denims, a wrinkled t-shirt and dirty jogging shoes.

“Wasn’t that Ian?” Bill Jones asked Adam
when Ian was out of earshot.

“At least that’s what he calls himself,”
Adam laughed.

“I keep forgetting,” Bill said as he
pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and gave it a tap on the back
of his hand, sending several cigarettes protruding from the package.

“Do you have to smoke?” Adam asked.

“Hey, we’re outside,” Bill grumbled,
using his yellowed teeth to drag one cigarette from the package before lighting
it.

“Stinks like shit,” Adam spat. “No
wonder you don’t get women.”

“I get plenty.” Bill took a drag. “So
how are you doing with Boatman?”

“I was about to tell you, I met her
today.”

“You went over there? Did you run into her
friend? What did she say?” Bill studied Adam as the two slowly walked down the
boardwalk along the beach.

“She came to me.” Adam laughed.

“Came to you? What the hell does that
mean?”

“When I went to pick up Grandma today,
to take her to the doctor, Boatman was there. Having tea.”

“Why would she do that?” Bill frowned.

 “I asked Grandma when I took her to the
doctor’s. She said Boatman wanted to learn more about the house’s history. I
guess Ben Smith from the museum told Boatman about her.”

“Well shit, is this going to mess up
things?”

“I don’t think so. Grandma doesn’t
really know anything. I mean she does, but she doesn’t know she does.”

“Did she tell her about Ian?” Bill
asked.

“If she did it would cook his goose,
wouldn’t it?” Adam laughed. “But nah, I don’t think so.”

“Is this going to help us get into the
house?”

“It gave me a couple of ideas. But yeah,
I think so.”

Later that evening Adam stopped back at
his grandmother’s house.

“Adam, I didn’t expect to see you
again,” Marie said when he walked into her kitchen. He found her sitting at the
table eating a bowl of ice cream. Already dressed for bed, she wore a pink robe
over her nightgown and toilet paper wrapped around her hair to protect her pin
curls.

“Would you like some—chocolate?” she
asked.

“No thanks, Grandma. Just thought I’d
stop in and see how you were feeling…after your doctor’s appointment.” He stood
in the middle of the kitchen and looked around, as if trying to figure out what
he wanted to say.

“Well dear, you saw me after my
appointment. But it is still nice to see you again. I feel fine. Sweet of you
to ask.” She put a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

“I think I’ll have that ice cream after
all.” Adam opened an overhead kitchen cabinet and grabbed a bowl. Marie watched
from the table as her grandson fixed himself a bowl of ice cream before joining
her at the table.

“So that’s the lady who’s living at
Marlow House now?” Adam asked.

“Danielle Boatman, yes. Brianna’s niece—great-niece.
She seems like a sweet girl.” Marie picked up a napkin off the table and patted
her mouth before taking another bite of ice cream.

“I understand she’s turning the place
into a B and B.” Adam glanced up and watched for Marie’s reaction.

“Where did you hear that?” Marie asked
with a frown.

“Carla at Pier Café.” Adam stood up and
went to the cabinet and grabbed two glasses.

“Carla is a little gossip,” Marie said.

“Maybe so. But she’s more reliable than
the
Frederickport Press
.” Adam filled each glass with water then returned
to the table. He set one in front of Marie.

“Thank you.” Marie took a sip of the
water. Adam sat back at the table and started eating his ice cream.

“Are you going to see her again?” Adam
asked.

“I don’t know. I suppose if she has more
questions, she’ll want to talk to me again. So she might stop by. But it’s too
far for me to walk over there.”

“You said she wanted to know about Walt
Marlow?” Adam took a sip of his water.

“Well, the man did kill himself in her
house.”

“I thought you said your father thought
it was murder?”

“Well either way, having a murder or
suicide in a house might make one a little uneasy.”

“You mean to live in the house?”

“Yes.”

“Did Miss Boatman seem uneasy…living in a
house where something like that happened?”

“No…not really. More curious. I guess I
can understand. She seemed mostly curious about how Brianna came to own the
house. She didn’t know Angela Marlow had died before her husband.”

“All old news.” Adam shrugged.

“I suppose.” Marie finished the last of
her ice cream and pushed the bowl to one side.

“Grandma, didn’t you once show me some
old photographs of Brianna O’Malley?”

“Yes, I have some wonderful pictures of
her.”

“Did you show them to Ms. Boatman?”

“No, it didn’t even occur to me. Do you
think she would be interested?”

“I’m sure she would. I bet she’d like to
frame some of them, to hang in the house. After all, her aunt left her Marlow
House. I imagine that sort of thing would go well in a B and B. Visitors to old
historical sites always seem to eat up that sort of thing.”

“Oh Adam, you’re right! What a wonderful
idea, and what a nice way for Brianna to be remembered.”

“You know Grandma, you’ve been saying
how you want to go through all your old photographs, give them away to family
members who’ll appreciate them. I think you should give all the photos of Brianna
to Danielle Boatman.”

“Do you really think so? You wouldn’t
mind if I gave them away?”

“Of course not, Grandma. They don’t mean
anything to me. I think it would be nice.” Adam leaned across the table and
patted Marie’s hand. “I tell you what, why don’t I stop over in the morning,
and help you get that box down from the closet. We can go through it, and I’ll
take the pictures over to her.”

“Are you sure you want to do that? I can
always call her up and see if she’s even interested in them. If she is, she can
get the box down and look through the pictures. She gave me her phone number
when she left.”

“No Grandma, I’ve a feeling she’s pretty
busy these days, trying to get the house ready to open up for business. If I
take those pictures over there, it’ll give her time to do something with them
if she wants to.”

“Adam, you’re such a thoughtful
grandson.” Marie beamed.

Thirty minutes later Adam Nichols sat in
his car in front of his grandmother’s house. Before starting up the engine, he
pulled out his cellphone and rang up Bill Jones.

“Yeah?” Bill answered the phone.

“You want to see the inside of Marlow
House tomorrow?”

“What’s the plan?”

“Grandma’s giving me some photos for
Boatman. I’m taking them over to Marlow House tomorrow.”

 “I’ll go. But not sure what good it’ll
do looking through the house with her there,” Bill grumbled.

 “The very least, it’ll give us a lay of
the land.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and won’t have to
go back,” Bill suggested.

“Yeah right, like that will happen. But
you know what I’m really pissed about?”

“What?” Bill asked.

“That I’ve been living in this damn town
for my entire life, and for all that time that house has been vacant. I’ve
never once been in it. All those missed opportunities. It would have been so
damn easy back then.”

“We didn’t know back then,” Bill
reminded him

“I know. But it still pisses me off.”

“So when do we go over there?”

“I have to come over to Grandma’s in the
morning first to get the pictures.”

“Want me to meet you there?”

“No. I’ll give you a call and pick you up
after I leave Grandma’s.”

After getting out of the shower and
drying off, Danielle slipped on a t-shirt and pair of plaid pajama bottoms.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, she quickly wove her clean damp hair
into a French braid before brushing her teeth. Back in her bedroom she climbed
into bed and pulled the top sheet and blankets over her as she sat up and
leaned against the headboard.

It had been a fairly productive day, she
thought. Lily did a good job with the inventory. Danielle had called around to
get bids from local upholsterers to refurbish the damaged sofas and chairs. 
Both the contractor and electrician showed up as promised, and each gave her
good news. Tomorrow afternoon the cable people were arriving to hook up her
phone, cable and Internet and in the morning she was shopping for new
appliances. She wouldn’t miss living out of an ice chest. She still needed to
call the storage company and arrange to have the rest of her belongings
delivered—things she hadn’t gotten rid of after selling her house, and what she
couldn’t fit in her car.

She hadn’t seen Walt since he’d left her
in the parlor, after Ian and Lily came down from the attic. She wondered what
he did all day—
where did he go?
Just as she pondered that question Walt
appeared, standing at the side of her bed.

“Move over,” he told her.

“Excuse me?”

“If you want me to lie on top of you,
fine.” Walt started to climb onto the bed, his body disappearing through hers.

Letting out a little groan, Danielle
quickly scooted over to the other side of the bed. A moment later she and Walt
lay side by side on the mattress—Danielle under the blankets and sheet—Walt
atop them. As usual, he wore his suit and dress shoes. Together they leaned
back against the headboard, Walt puffing on his thin cigar.

“You know, when I get a boyfriend we’ll
have to stop this,” Danielle quipped.

“You mean
husband.
”

“No. I mean boyfriend.”

“You certainly would not share your
bedroom with a man who wasn’t your husband?” 

“I’m sharing my room with you, aren’t
I?” Danielle chuckled.

“That is hardly the same thing.”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad. I’ll
be too busy for a boyfriend anyway.”

“
Panties in a wad?
I really don’t
understand how you women talk these days. I knew giving women the right to vote
was going to cause problems.”

“Oh, poor Walt,” Danielle teased.

“I read your friend’s magazines. I’m not
sure I like how much the world has changed.”

“Maybe that’s a sign for you to move on
to the next level.”

“You’re always trying to get rid of me.
I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“I’m not trying to get rid of you,”
Danielle insisted. “I just don’t think our spirits are supposed to be
trapped—earthbound. I believe there’s something more after this—something better.”

“I haven’t seen it yet,” Walt grumbled.

“No. But you’re stuck here—by choice, I
suspect.”

“I’ve things to do first—things to find
out before I can leave.”

“Can I ask you one favor?” she asked
sweetly.

“What’s that?” Walt turned to look at
her. From the cigar in his hand a trail of smoke curled into the air.

“If you insist on having these chats in
my bed, in my bedroom…”

“
Our
bedroom.”

“Okay,
our
bedroom.  Can you
please refrain from smoking? I find it very unpleasant while I’m in bed, preparing
to go to sleep.”

Silently Walt stared at Danielle for a
moment. Finally he waved his hand; the cigar and smoke disappeared. Only a hit
of the cigar’s scent lingered in the air.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Now I’ve something else I’ve been
wanting to ask you about all day,” Danielle began.

“What’s that?”  Walt fidgeted with his
fingers as if he couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands without a cigar
to hold.

“When I talked to Marie today—she
mentioned something interesting about you.”

“Yes?” Walt raised his brow and stopped
his fidgeting. He folded his hands together and rested them on his lap.

“Were you a jewel thief?”

“She told you that?” His expression was
unreadable.

“She also said you were involved in
moonshining.”

“My, little Marie has grown up to be
quite the gossip.”

“Like I said,
Little Marie
is
ninety,” Danielle quipped. “Not sure if discussing events that occurred almost
a hundred years ago—when all parties are deceased—can really be classified as
gossip.”

“What else did she say about me?”

“That even though you inherited your
grandfather’s fortune you liked to live on the edge.”

“I suppose that was true. Following all
the rules can be rather boring and predicable. Are you a rule follower,
Danielle Boatman?”

“Me? I suppose so.”

“I might have disagreed with your
assessment of yourself had I not first read those magazines in the parlor.”

“What do you mean?” she asked with a
frown.

“In my time, a woman who planned to open
a boarding house—one who shamelessly discussed bringing men into her bed
without the benefit of marriage—one would assume she was a…well a woman of ill
repute. Definitely not a rule follower.  However, since reading those magazines
it appears that sort of behavior tends to be the norm these days.”

“Are you comparing me to a madam?”
Danielle asked with an arched brow.

“I’m just saying…” Before he could
finish his sentence, Danielle grabbed a pillow and started smacking his side of
the bed. Surprised by her outburst, Walt glanced down and watched the pillow
repeatedly move through his body.  After her unsuccessful attempt to hit him,
Danielle half heartedly cursed and threw the pillow across the room. It hit the
wall and fell to the floor.

Walt looked over at Danielle who now sat
up in the bed, leaning against the headboard, her arms folded across her chest
as she chuckled under her breath and muttered, “Damn ghosts.”

“What was that all about?” Walt asked,
still a bit dazed.

Danielle looked over at Walt and shook
her head. “If you are going to make yourself at home in my bed at least try not
to be insulting.”

Together they lay on the bed saying
nothing for several minutes. Finally Danielle spoke.

“So is it true. You were a jewel thief?”
She glanced over at him.

“It was only once. And I had my
reasons.”

“What were they?” she asked

“They’re mine,” he told her.

“The jewels were yours?”

“No, the reasons. The reasons are mine.”

“Okay…..What happened to them? According
to Marie they were never recovered.”

Walt shrugged. “It really doesn’t matter
now, does it?”

“I suppose not. But it is interesting.
I’d love to hear the story some time.”

“I don’t think so. Some things are
better left in the past,” Walt said wearily.

“Okay…I won’t pry.” Danielle promised.
She pulled her knees to her chest. They were still covered by the blanket.
Wrapping her arms around her bent limbs, she rested her chin on her knees and peeked
over at Walt.

“I wonder how Marie knew. Her father
must have told her. I wonder why,” Walt murmured.

“She told me her father liked to talk
about you.”

“George was a good man. I’m surprised he
told his daughter those stories.”

“I think he missed you. From what Marie
said he lived vicariously through you.”

“
Vicariously through me?”
Walt
laughed harshly. “I didn’t even make it to my thirtieth birthday. It sounds as
if George lived a good long life.”

“Sometimes it’s not the length of a life,
but what you do with it. It sounds like you lived an interesting one.”

“Stop trying to patronize me, Danielle.”
The next moment he was no longer lying next to her, but pacing the room, a lit
cigar in his hand. Startled by his outburst she sat up straighter.

“I wasn’t patronizing you,” Danielle
said.

Bringing the cigar to his lips he glared
over at her. Realizing what he was holding, he let out a little curse and the
cigar vanished.

“What did I ever accomplish in my life?”
he asked. “By the time my grandfather was my age—the age I was when I died—he
was a successful shipbuilder, employed hundreds of people, built this town.
What did I do with my life?”

“Who knows what you might of
accomplished had you lived.”

“I didn’t even leave a son to carry on
my grandfather’s name. Do you want to know why I’m certain I didn’t take my own
life?”

“Why?”

“Because I was too damn selfish. There
is no way in hell I would have killed myself.”

Danielle didn’t respond immediately.
Finally she said, “Do you have any idea who might have killed you?”

“I can only think of one person who had
a motive.”

“Who?”

Walt stopped pacing and stared at
Danielle, his expression blank. Finally his mouth curled into a sardonic smile.

“Who?” she asked again as he stood mute,
smirking at her.

“Why, my lovely bride, of course.”

“Angela?” Danielle was not prepared for
that answer.

“Yes, Angela, my fair bride.” He let out
a bitter laugh and started pacing again. “I don’t know if I’m relieved that she
died before me—or simply confounded that she wasn’t the one responsible.”

“I don’t understand. I got the impression
that you loved your wife.”

“Oh, I loved her. At least I thought I
loved her, in the beginning. But was it love or pride that I felt? Ego?”

“Ego?”

“We met in San Francisco. All the eligible
and wealthy bachelors chased her; she was a prize. But I didn’t even have to
chase her. She knew what she wanted, and I must say that stroked my ego.”

“What happened?”

“You mean, when did I realize she just
wanted my money?”

“I guess that’s what I mean.”

“Not long after we returned from our
wedding trip, my attorney dropped by my revised will and she took it upon
herself to read it. She was furious Kathrine was in it.”

“But why? I mean, Angela would have
inherited your estate had she lived and Kathrine wouldn’t have gotten
anything.”

“She was angry that I slighted her
brother. She told me he was family, and Kathrine was nothing more than a
servant. She had a point of course—after all, I hadn’t added Kathrine to my will
because of love for the woman, but because I loathed my brother-in-law. Angela
and I got into an argument and in our heated exchange I told her I intended to
add a codicil to the will to ensure her brother couldn’t touch my money even if
she did inherit.”

“Is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. I never got a chance to
talk to my attorney about it.”

“Why do you think she just wanted your
money?”

“Our honeymoon was not ideal. I can’t
really explain it. But she seemed to change. When we had the argument before
she left for Portland I began to feel she was really no different from her
brother. And then…then…” Walt paused a moment.

“What is it?”

“I just remembered something she said
right before she left for Portland. Something she said under her breath. I
don’t think she intended me to hear it, but I did.”

“Well, what was it?”

“Why is it some of my memories seem to
have been locked away from me until now?”

“I don’t know how it all works.”

“Under her breath I heard her say—
I
can’t become a widow fast enough
.”