The Ghost of Valentine Past (12 page)

“
C
an I go now
?” Kelly asked. “I've really told you all I know, which isn't much.”

Joe's hand toyed with the upper right hand corner of the manila folder, preparing to open it. “Why did you lie about going over to Marlow House before you left your brother's?”

Slumping back in her chair, Kelly let out a sigh. “I didn't lie exactly. I just sorta left out that part.”

“A significant part.”

She sat up straighter and looked at Joe. “Why? I didn't see anything, honest. It was dark when I got over there, and I'm not even positive it was a man or woman I saw in the parlor.”

“I still don't understand why you didn't tell me…unless…”

“I didn't want to get involved, okay?” Kelly snapped.

“What do you mean you didn't want to get involved?”

“Since I've been helping Ian research Earthbound Spirits, the more I learn about the group, well, they sort of scare me. They kill people. I just figure, whoever murdered Peter is probably someone from the inside. A lot of money is at stake. Now with Cleve gone, Morris was vulnerable.”

“I thought you believed Morris was behind Cleve's death?”

“Yes. I think he got Cleve to kill himself, just like he did with Candice. But with Cleve—I suspect Peter began to realize he acted rashly, because with Cleve gone, there was no one who had his back. Although, I'm not sure he could've done anything differently—I mean, from Peter's perspective. From what we've learned in our research, the group seems to be unraveling.”

“What does any of that have to do with you not telling me the truth about going over to Marlow House last night?”

“Don't you see, maybe the killer was in the room when I looked in. Maybe he had just killed Peter right before I peeked in. If he thinks someone saw him—if it gets out that I looked in the window last night—I may be the next person on the killer's list. If I'd seen something, something that would really help you, I would've already told you. But I didn't. But the killer doesn't know that.”

“You knew someone saw you—the car that almost hit you.”

“Yes. But it was just a car driving down the street, and I assumed it was unrelated to the murder. When Ian called me, told me about the murder, he asked me what I'd seen. I didn't even tell him about me going over there. What was the point? And I figured if I told Ian, he would probably tell Lily. I like Lily, but I really wouldn't trust her with my secrets. So, I hoped the driver of the car never realized they'd driven by a crime scene, and then no one would have to know I'd looked in that damn window.”

Joe didn't respond. Instead, he silently studied Kelly, his fingers still fiddling with the folder's edge.

After a few moments of silence, Kelly looked up into Joe's eyes and asked again, “Can I go now?”

“Not quite yet.” Joe opened the folder and pulled out a photograph. He set it before Kelly. “Do you know this man?”

Kelly's eyes visibly widened when her gaze set on the photograph. Nervously chewing her bottom lip, she looked from the picture to Joe. “Yes. Why are you showing me this?”

“Who is he?” Joe asked.

Kelly shrugged. “It's Mitch.”

“What's your relationship with him?”

Kelly shook her head. “I don't have a relationship with him. He…he lives in a condo below mine.”

“Are you friends?” he asked.

“Not exactly. He's just a neighbor. I'm not even sure I ever knew his last name.”

Joe smiled and removed a second photograph from the envelope. “Oh, you do.” He placed the second photograph on top of the first one.

Kelly let out a gasp and snatched up the picture Joe had just placed before her. Holding it in her hand, she looked from the picture to Joe. “Where did you get this?” The photograph was of her and Mitch.

“That doesn't matter right now. But you look like more than casual neighbors in that picture.”

Kelly shook her head and tossed the picture onto the table. “I don't understand what Mitch has to do with this. Why are you showing me these pictures?”

“This morning, during our processing of the crime scene, we found a fingerprint—a bloody fingerprint—on Marlow House's front gate. The fingerprint belongs to your friend, Mitch, and we are fairly certain the blood belongs to Peter Morris. We should know that sometime tomorrow.”

“Mitch?” Kelly pressed her right hand against her brow. She began to rub her now throbbing head and closed her eyes. “No, this can't be happening. It doesn't make any sense.”

“Now maybe you might want to tell me again, what's your relationship with Mitch?”

Kelly stopped rubbing her forehead and opened her eyes. She stared at Joe, her expression unreadable. “I told you. He is just a neighbor. We have a very casual relationship. I don't even know his last name.”

“You don't look very casual in that photograph, practically cheek to cheek.”

“It was a stupid selfie Mitch took. I ran into him at the Starbucks down the street from my condo. This was about a month ago, right after he moved in. He started up a conversation, and I recognized him as my new neighbor. As we're talking, all of a sudden he grabs his phone, tells me he wants to take my picture, and before I know it, he practically knocks my head with his while he takes the picture. That's about the extent of our friendship.”

“You never went out again?”

“Technically speaking, we didn't go out that day. We simply ran into each other at the coffee shop.”

“So is that a yes or no?”

“No. We never went out—ever.”

“Did you ever
run into him
again—like you did that day? Maybe at Starbucks or some other place?”

“I saw him a few times at Starbucks, but I never sat with him again. We said hello; that was it. The baristas there know me; you can ask them. They can tell you we didn't hang out there together.”

“Did you ever go to his apartment? Did he ever go to yours?”

“No…” Kelly paused a moment, rethinking his question. “Well actually, he did come into my place a couple times. But it wasn't like we were hanging out together or anything. A few times he helped me bring up my groceries.”

“That was neighborly of him.”

“It's not like he always helped me with my groceries. But our parking spots are next to each other, and a couple times, he pulled in at the same time I got back from the grocery store, so he'd offer to help me bring my groceries up. I have those stairs…but he never stayed. We never went out or anything.”

“Do you know what he does for a living?” Joe asked.

Kelly shook her head. “I don't know. We never talked about it. Like I said, the only time we really talked was at the Starbucks that one time when he took that selfie. And then the conversation was just silly. We didn't really share any personal information other than first names.”

“Silly, how?”

“Oh I don't know—we talked about the high price of coffee, speculated on why Starbucks doesn't use small, medium, and large. That sort of stuff.”

“Did you know of any connection between him and Earthbound Spirits?”

“No. And I find it hard to believe there is one. He didn't seem like someone who would get involved with a group like that.” Cocking her head slightly, she looked at Joe. “Are you sure it was Mitch's fingerprint on that gate?”

“Did you know he was in Frederickport yesterday?” Joe asked.

“No. What does he say about all this?”

“I don't know. Your neighbor seems to be missing. He wasn't at his home this afternoon. And he wasn't at his office.”

“His office? I don't know where he works. Where's that?”

“Downtown Portland.”

“None of this makes any sense.” Kelly picked up the photograph of her and Mitch and stared at it.

The door to the office opened and another officer walked in. He silently handed Joe a piece of paper and then left the room. Kelly looked up and watched the officer leave, wondering what Joe had been handed. In the next moment, she had her answer.

“Kelly, I've a warrant here—to search your car.”

I
an anxiously paced
the living room of Marlow House while Lily, Danielle, and Chris silently watched from where they sat: Lily on the recliner, and Chris and Danielle on the sofa. Walt observed from his place by the fireplace. Earlier, Chris had built a fire; the flames flickered and snapped from the hearth. David and Arlene had gone out for dinner, and Heather had finally returned. She was upstairs in her room.

Ian looked at his watch again. “What's taking Kelly so long?”

“I'd call the chief again, but I'm sure he's gone home by now,” Danielle told him.

“Want me to call down there again?” Lily offered.

“No.” Ian sat down on the arm of Lily's recliner. “The last time I called they said she was still in the interview room with Joe.”

“That can't be good,” Walt said from his place by the fire. Both Danielle and Chris glanced over at him.

“Well, it can't,” Walt reiterated. “We all know Joe has an over active imagination and a penchant for trying to pin crimes on attractive young women.”

Danielle flashed Walt a frown.

“It's true—she is an attractive young woman.” Walt then turned his attention to Chris. “You know Chris, I've said all along Kelly was perfect for you. And tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Since Kelly will probably be here for Valentine's Day—can't imagine she'll head out tonight—you should really think about asking her out for tomorrow. Might help Ian and Lily too. From what I understand, Ian was planning some romantic dinner at his house, and with his sister now back in town, might spoil his Valentine's Day plans. A win win for both of you.” Walt smiled.

The doorbell rang. Ian jumped up from the sofa. “Maybe that's her!” He dashed from the room to answer the front door.

When Ian returned to the living room, a weary Kelly by his side, Danielle thought Ian's sister looked as if she hadn't slept in days.

“They searched my car.” Kelly burst out in tears.

“You let them search your car? Why?” Chris asked.

“They had a search warrant.” Kelly used the back of her hand to wipe away the tears. Ian led her to a chair. She sat down and then proceeded to tell them everything that had happened.

“Well, they didn't find anything, and they let you go. So, that's good. Isn't it?” Lily said.

No longer crying, Kelly sniffled. “But they kept my coat. And it's the one I got for Christmas.”

“I'm sure you'll get it back,” Ian said.

“I just hope they don't ruin it while checking to see if there's some trace evidence of blood! As if I would actually cut a man's throat!”

“I just wish you would've been upfront with me, when I asked you what you saw last night. Then we could've avoided all this,” Ian said.

“In fairness to Kelly,” Danielle reminded. “You're the one who withheld information from the police first—not your sister.”

“I still can't believe it was Mitch's fingerprint!” Kelly shook her head. “And you know what, his name isn't even Mitch.”

“He lied to you about his name?” Lily asked.

“Not exactly. His real name is Logan Mitcham. But he goes by Mitch.”

“Logan Mitcham?” Danielle asked. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“
L
ogan Mitcham
, that's the name of the private detective Will Wayne hired to look into Isabella's death,” Danielle said when she finally made the connection. “Is this neighbor of yours a PI?”

Kelly shrugged. “I have no idea. Joe didn't say what Mitch does for a living. And I was so frazzled; I didn't even think to ask. Although, now that I think about it, he asked me what Mitch does for a living. But since he said something about checking Mitch's office, I figured he already knew; he was just trying to see what I'd say.”

“You think it's the same Mitcham?” Chris asked.

Kelly frowned. “Wait a minute, why would Will Wayne hire a detective to look into his daughter's death? She died of a brain aneurism. Ian and I haven't come across anything that would indicate foul play. The medical records were pretty clear. Can someone induce an aneurism, like a heart attack?”

“This all stems from some phone call Will received. He asked me not to say anything to the police until he found out more, but considering what's going on, I think I should talk to the chief.” Danielle stood up. “Do you think your Logan Mitcham could be a PI?”

“He is hardly my Logan Mitcham. Heck, I didn't even know him by that name. And frankly, I would prefer to distance myself from him, especially if he killed Peter Morris.” Kelly then looked at her brother in a panic. “They haven't found him yet. I can't go home until they do. What if he thinks I saw something? That I'm a witness?”

“You can stay with me, Kelly,” Ian told her.

“
W
e could go
in the parlor,” Danielle told the chief as she led him into the library thirty minutes later. “But I really don't feel comfortable going back in there.”

“I can't say I blame you,” the chief said as he took a seat. He watched Danielle shut the library door.

“You look tired,” she noted.

“You too.” He smiled wearily. “It's been a long day.”

“I wanted to talk to you about Logan Mitcham.” Danielle sat down.

“Ahh, I see Kelly has talked to you already.”

“She stopped here after she left the police station.”

“Is she still here? I didn't look in the living room when I came in. Can't imagine she'd be in the parlor.”

“No. She went across the street with Lily and Ian. By her appearance, Joe was pretty rough on her.”

“Joe was doing his job, and she was being less than forthcoming.”

“I want to know, is Logan Mitcham a private investigator?”

The chief smiled. “So, Kelly was lying about that too.”

“Lying about what?” Danielle frowned.

“When Joe asked her what he did for a living, she said she didn't know. We figured if nothing else, she and Ian had hired Mitcham in the past.”

“No, Kelly doesn't know what he does for a living. And Ian had never heard of him before. He'd never even noticed the guy when he stopped by his sister's.”

“Then how do you know he's a PI?”

“Because Will Wayne told me he hired a PI to investigate Isabella's death. And the detective he hired was some guy by the name Logan Mitcham. I wanted to know if it was the same man.”

“Why would Will hire a PI? Isabella died of natural causes.”

Danielle told MacDonald about running into Will Wayne when visiting Portland in January, how Wayne had told her about the phone calls, and the suspicion surrounding his daughter's death.

“I really wish Will had come to me. That call was a hoax. Not sure why someone would do that, but I've no doubt the only thing criminal surrounding Isabella's death were her uncle's actions after she was already dead. But this does add new names to my suspect list.”

“Certainly you don't think Will had anything to do with the murder. He hired Mitcham to investigate Morris, not kill him.”

“I'll need to talk to Will, see what he knows.”

“What does Mitcham say? According to Kelly, he wasn't at his condo or office. Have you located him?”

“Not yet. Brian drove to Portland this afternoon, when he got there, Mitcham wasn't at his condo or office. No one had seen him since yesterday morning. But we have someone watching the place and his office.”

“When I talked to you earlier, you told me Brian had gone home—to sleep. That he'd had a long day.”

MacDonald shrugged. “He did have a long day. I just figured it was easier to tell you he went home, instead of trying to explain why he took off to Portland in the middle of an investigation. You have to understand, there will always be some things I simply cannot tell you. Nothing personal, Danielle.”

“Hmm…well, I'll remember that when I know something.”

MacDonald laughed. “You mean, like knowing Will hired a detective to investigate Morris and believed Isabella was murdered? Which, if true, could mean there was corruption in the coroner's office?”

Danielle sighed. “Okay. You got me there. But I didn't really think the PI would find anything, and I certainly never imagined the PI's fingerprint would show up at a crime scene—on my property!”

“I just hope we find him soon and that he has some answers for us.”

“Me too. Kelly's afraid to go home. She's paranoid about living next to a possible murderer, especially considering she was over here last night, peeking in the windows.”

“So, she told you everything?”

Danielle nodded. “Yep. She was pretty freaked.”

“Any chance that you, Chris, or Walt might have run into Morris' spirit since the last time we talked? It would make it a lot easier on me if he'd simply name his killer.”

“Sorry. The last time Walt saw Morris' spirit was when they were taking his body away. He went with it. So, I suspect if he hasn't moved on, he might be hanging around the morgue.”

“Any chance you might be willing to go to the morgue with me?”

“No. Nada. Ain't happening. Nope.”

“Well,” MacDonald stood up. “If you change your mind…oh, how about that second spirit? You still say it's your late husband?”

“It is. But I haven't really talked to him either. He just sort of shows up and then vanishes.”

“Considering that, I suppose I understand your reluctance about going down to the morgue with me. You have your hands full.”

Danielle stood up. “Oh…I just remembered. But considering you have the finger print, this isn't that big of a deal.”

“You remembered what?”

“According to Max—”

MacDonald arched his brows. “Max your cat?”

“Yes, sweet black furry little guy, white tipped ears, likes to chew on your fingers.”

“Yes, I'm familiar with the little demon.”

“Ahh, that's not nice. Plus, he has information for you.”

“I'm not quite sure if I'll ever get used to the idea of getting tips from ghosts—but a cat? That one always makes me stop and wonder if I am losing my mind.”

“Well, you're not. And if it makes you feel any better, it's not like Max talked to you—or even me, for that matter. It's just that thing between spirits and animals.”

“Okay, what information does—
Max
—have?”

“Last night, after Heather came upstairs to go to bed, Max saw Arlene slip out of her bedroom. This was after Heather went into her bedroom and closed her door. Arlene went downstairs.”

“Where was Chris?”

“I'm pretty sure he was in the kitchen about that time looking for me, because a few minutes later Chris came upstairs. According to Max, he walked to my bedroom door, but then looked as if he had second thoughts, so he went back down stairs.”

“Wouldn't Chris have seen Arlene downstairs?”

“I didn't ask Chris or Arlene about it. But I don't think he saw her, or else he would've said something.”

“When did Arlene come back upstairs?” the chief asked.

“I don't know. Max went up to the attic after Chris headed back downstairs.”

“I wonder why Arlene didn't say anything about going downstairs?” the chief murmured.

“I wondered that myself. But this was late—after midnight. It's always possible Arlene was half asleep when she got up, was thirsty, and maybe doesn't even remember going downstairs.”

“And avoided running into Chris?”

“It's possible. But I guess you can ask her about it. But like I said, now that you have that fingerprint, I don't really think it's anything significant. And plus, how do you ask her? I mean, you really can't say, according to the cat…”

W
hen Lily returned
from Ian's house later that evening, Marlow House was locked up and the only illumination came from nightlights plugged into random sockets throughout the house. Tiptoeing past the parlor, she noticed the door was shut. Just looking at it gave her chills. Chris' door was also shut. She knew he had decided to spend one final night at Marlow House and start moving into his new place in the morning.

Upstairs, all the doors were closed and there was no light coming from under any of the doors—except for Danielle's. Danielle was still up. Instead of knocking on Danielle's door and risking waking up Heather and the others, Lily used her cellphone to send Danielle a text message. A moment later, Danielle's bedroom door opened and Lily went inside.

“I thought for sure you'd be sound asleep by now,” Lily whispered. She sat with Danielle on the edge of the mattress. After coming home from the police station earlier, Danielle had finally made her bed. She hadn't yet turned down the sheets and blankets for the night.

“I was hoping you'd come in here before you went to bed. We haven't had a chance to be alone since all of this happened.”

“I can't believe they kept us apart all morning, wouldn't even let us talk to each other,” Lily said.

“I guess they couldn't risk us comparing notes. After all, maybe the five of us killed Morris.”

“Like one of those old mysteries, where all the suspects are guilty?”

“Pretty much.” Danielle glanced around the room.

“You looking for Walt? Is he here?”

“No…I'm looking for Lucas.”

“Lucas? What are you talking about?”

“I saw Lucas today. Walt saw him first. The second spirt I told you about. It wasn't someone connected to Peter's murder like we assumed. Just some bizarre coincidence.”

“I don't understand. Lucas has been dead for over a year.”

Danielle explained to Lily what she knew about Lucas' spirit, beginning when Walt first encountered him before Morris' body was found.

When Danielle finished, Lily said, “Oh my god, of all times for your deceased husband to show up…on Valentine's Day!”

“Technically speaking, he showed up on Friday the thirteenth,” Danielle reminded.

Lily started to giggle.

“What is so funny?”

“Sorry, I couldn't help it. Ironic in a twisted sick sort of way. Lucas showing up, sort of a Friday 13
^th
Valentine's Day surprise.”

“You have a strange sense of humor,” Danielle said with a sigh.