The Ghost of Valentine Past (5 page)

“She wasn't in the kitchen. I thought maybe she'd gone into the library, but she wasn't there either. I walked upstairs, but all the doors were closed and the lights were out, so I just went back downstairs. I didn't want to wake up the guests. Figured whatever she needed me for must not have been that important.”

“Did you say anything to Heather, about Danielle not being in the kitchen?”

Chris shook his head. “No. When I came back downstairs, all the lights were off. Figured she had locked up and gone to bed while I was off in the kitchen and library looking for Danielle.”

“What did you do then?”

“I went back to the kitchen and got a piece of cake and then went to bed.”

“Did you eat the cake in the kitchen?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn't hear anything downstairs?” Brian asked.

“No.”

“What time was this?”

“Like I said, I never checked the time. But, I suspect it was around 1 a.m.”

“When you went to your bedroom, did you go right to sleep?”

“Yes.”

“But Heather found you in the parlor two hours later, which you don't deny. Why were you there?”

“Something woke me up.”

“Something?”

“I don't know what exactly. But I woke up…thought I heard something. When I went out into the hall, I noticed a light coming from under the parlor door, and I went to check it out. That's when I found Morris.”

“A light coming from under the parlor door? When you went back downstairs, after looking for Danielle, did you notice a light coming from the parlor then?”

A frown crossed Chris' face, and he cocked his head slightly, considering the question. He began to shake his head, “No, no I didn't. I remember, it was pitch black when I came back downstairs, which is why I assumed Heather had locked up the house, and I didn't bother checking the front door. No, the parlor light was off then. All the downstairs lights were off.”

“If it was pitch black, you really couldn't see if Heather was still downstairs or not? Or Morris for that matter.”

“When I said pitch black, I just meant the interior lights were off. There was enough moonlight coming in the window to get around without turning on a light—and I'm certain the parlor light was off.”

“I have one last question for now.”

“What's that?”

“Danielle tells me she gave you a fishing knife?”

“Fishing knife? Yes…why?”

“Can you tell me where the knife is?”

“Why? Why do you need my fishing knife?”

“Just tell me where we can find it.” Brian told him.

“I don't know where it is.”

“Did you conveniently misplace the knife Danielle bought you?” Brian asked.

“I didn't conveniently misplace anything,” Chris snapped. “I put it in my tackle box, and the last time I looked, it wasn't there.”

“Are you saying someone stole your knife?”

“Or borrowed.”

“And where do you keep this tackle box?”

“On the back porch.”

“On the back porch where anyone can get into it?” Brian asked.

“The yard is fenced.”

“Did you tell anyone the knife was missing?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I didn't want to embarrass whoever borrowed it. Figured they would put it back when they were done with it.”

“I think they're done with it,” Brian said. “But I don't think they're going to be returning it to your tackle box.”

“
I
'm surprised
you didn't talk to me first,” Heather said when she walked into the interrogation room. Taking a seat across from Brian, she crossed her legs and stared at him, while waiting for his first question.

“I understand you believe Chris murdered Peter Morris.”

“I don't want to believe that. I actually like Chris. But I did see him covered in blood, and I know Peter Morris was at the house to talk to him. Who else could it be?”

“Tell me what you remember from last night.”

Repositioning herself in the chair, Heather uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. “I'd been watching television and had just turned off the set when I heard what sounded like someone coming in the front door. I looked into the hallway and saw Chris leading Peter Morris into the parlor.”

“Did you recognize Mr. Morris immediately?”

Heather shrugged. “Rather hard not to, with that ridiculous black hair of his, for a man his age.” She paused a moment and blushed. “I suppose that's rather harsh, considering he's dead.”

Brian reserved comment. Heather's own hair was unnaturally black for her complexion. “Then what did you do?”

“I…I didn't do anything. I went up to bed.”

“Chris tells me you were still downstairs thirty or forty minutes after Morris first arrived.”

“I guess that's about right. I wanted to straighten up the living room a bit before I went upstairs. I try to do my part around the house.”

“According to Chris, you showed Peter Morris out.”

“No, I didn't.”

“Are you saying Chris is lying?”

“No.” Heather uncrossed and re-crossed her legs again. “I'm just saying I didn't see the man out.”

“According to Chris, when he came out of the parlor with Mr. Morris, you told him Danielle wanted to speak to him, and you offered to show Mr. Morris out.”

“I suppose that's true.”

“You suppose?”

“Well, I did offer to show him out, but he didn't leave; he had something else to tell Chris. I just assumed Chris showed him out.”

“Why don't we back up a little bit; explain exactly what happened when Chris and Peter Morris came out of the parlor.”

“I was just getting ready to go upstairs for bed. Chris had to go to the kitchen, so I offered to show Mr. Morris out. But when we got to the door, he told me he'd forgotten to tell Chris something, so he said he would just wait there for Chris to return. Then I went upstairs.”

“Did you see Chris with Mr. Morris again?”

“You mean, aside from in the parlor, after Mr. Morris was murdered?”

“Yes.”

“No. But it was late. I figured he'd be going to bed as soon as he returned from the kitchen. There was no way he'd miss seeing Mr. Morris standing there, not far from his bedroom door.”

“Why did Chris go to the kitchen?”

“I guess Danielle wanted to talk to him about something.”

“Did she tell you that?”

Heather frowned. “No.”

“According to Chris, you told him Danielle wanted to see him in the kitchen.”

“That's not exactly what happened.”

“Are you saying Chris lied?”

“No. I thought I heard Danielle calling for Chris. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. I…I just assumed it was Danielle.”

“If I understand correctly, you saw Chris let Peter Morris into the house a little after midnight. They went into the parlor. Then thirty or forty minutes later, you thought you heard Danielle calling for Chris from the kitchen; he came out of the parlor with Mr. Morris; you told him Danielle needed to talk to him; you offered to show Mr. Morris out. He told you he needed to tell Chris something, and you left the man at the front door and then went upstairs to bed. Is that correct?”

“Yes, pretty much.”

“So, did you turn the downstairs lights off?”

“The downstairs lights? Why would I do that and leave Mr. Morris standing in the dark?”

“So the lights were on?”

“I suppose so.”

“Why did you come downstairs again? How did you happen to be standing at the door to the parlor, while Chris was inside the room kneeling by Mr. Morris?”

“I woke up. I was thirsty. So I came downstairs. I heard something coming from the direction of the parlor, so I went to investigate.”

“What was the first thing you saw?”

“I noticed the door to the parlor was open, and the light was on. I went to see who was up. When I got to the door, I saw Chris, kneeling by the body, blood covering his hands.”

“And your first thought was that he'd killed Mr. Morris?”

“I think it was a rational assumption.”

“
A
m I special
? You want to see me again? What about Lily or David?” Danielle asked Brian when she returned to the interrogation room.

“What time did you go to bed last night?”

“It was about ten when I went upstairs.” Danielle sat down. “I took a shower, read for a while. I remember checking my phone before I turned off the lights. It was not quite 11:30 p.m.”

“So you were probably sleeping when Morris arrived around midnight?”

“I doubt that. Took me a couple hours to finally fall asleep. I drank a couple cups of coffee at dinner last night—something I shouldn't do. Had me wired.”

“Did you go downstairs?”

“Not until later, after we heard Heather scream.”

“According to Heather, she thought she heard you calling for Chris from the direction of the kitchen. It would have been after midnight.”

Danielle shook her head. “No. I don't know what she thought she heard, but it wasn't me. For one thing, I'm not in a habit of shouting for people—especially in the middle of the night.”

“Could it have been Lily?”

“I seriously doubt it. I checked in on Lily after I finished my shower, and her bedroom door was already locked; there wasn't a light on in her room. I'm sure she was asleep, but you can ask her.”

“I've a question about Heather.”

“Yes?”

“Why is she staying at Marlow House?”

“
S
o
, you're really Chris Glandon?” Adam Nichols asked for the third time. He sat with Danielle and Chris in Pier Café.

“If you keep saying that, someone is going to hear,” Danielle whispered.

“I just thought you needed to know the truth, since you're my real estate agent,” Chris told him.

“I'm glad you told me now, before I wrote up the purchase contract,” Adam said.

“You do understand; Chris prefers to remain anonymous. Do you think that'll be possible?”

“It shouldn't be a problem. The sellers live out of state. I doubt they'll give the buyer's name much thought.” Adam picked up his coffee and took a sip.

“If I can maintain my anonymity through this purchase, it could be very profitable for you,” Chris told him.

Adam set his mug back onto the table. “What do you mean?”

“I've been considering purchasing property in Oregon for several projects I've been working on. I need a local real estate agent. I know you specialize in property management and these—”

“Are you suggesting you might use me?” Adam interrupted.

“Yes. If I'm able to continue flying under the wire.”

Adam reached across the table to shake Chris' hand. “I'd be more than happy to help you find the perfect properties,
Mr. Johnson
.”

With a laugh, Chris accepted the handshake.

A few minutes later, the server brought their order. Just as she left their table, Heather Donovan entered the restaurant. Instead of stopping by to say hello, Danielle's neighbor took a table on the other side of the room.

Danielle watched Heather, who stared blankly at her menu. “Heather doesn't seem particularly friendly today.”

Both Chris and Adam glanced briefly to Danielle's neighbor.

“From what Bill tells me, she has a mess on her hands,” Adam said just before he picked up his burger and took a bite.

“Mess? What do you mean?” Danielle glanced from Adam to Heather.

“She called Bill about a water leak. I guess it's been leaking for some time. There's some major mold going on in the walls between the kitchen and living room.”

Danielle cringed. “Mold?”

“Yep. And she needs to move out while they make repairs. She called me the other day about somewhere to stay; but she has that cat. I don't have anything available right now that'll allow pets.”

“There has to be some place she can stay,” Chris said.

“I have owners willing to take small dogs, but not cats. It's allergies. There are a lot of people who are allergic to cats and won't rent from us if a cat's stayed in the house.”

Danielle let out a sigh. “Yeah, we have that problem with Max, which is why I disclose the fact we have a cat before I accept someone's reservation.”

“You can afford to turn away guests; I can't.” Adam took another bite of his burger.

“She really looks unhappy, doesn't she?” Danielle said.

Chris eyed Danielle. “What are you thinking?”

“Well, I rent rooms. I think we could handle another cat.”

“Oh really?” Chris laughed. “I wonder if Max would agree.

Danielle sighed. “You have a point. Max loathes other cats. But…we could explain it to him…”

Adam paused mid-bite and looked across the table to Danielle. “Explain it to him?”

“She did save my life,” Danielle murmured, still looking at Heather.

“If she takes a room, you might as well change the name of Marlow House Bed and Breakfast to Marlow House Boarding House,” Chris teased.

Danielle laughed. “You have a point. I have you and Lily…” Danielle stood up.

Adam looked up. “Where are you going?”

“Do you really need to ask?” Chris said after Danielle flashed them both a smile and walked to Heather's table.

“
H
i
, neighbor,” Danielle greeted when she reached Heather's side.

Closing her menu, Heather looked up at Danielle. “Umm…hi. I saw you when I came in, but I didn't want to interrupt.”

“Do you mind if I sit down a moment?”

“Umm…sure…I mean...no, I don't mind.”

“I heard you have a mold issue.” Danielle took a seat.

Heather groaned. “If that was my only problem. What do they say, when it rains it pours?”

“Yeah, I understand you've been having a hard time finding someplace to stay because of Bella.”

“Right…that too.” Heather tossed the menu to the table.

“You mean you have more problems than mold and finding a place to stay?”

“I've lost Presley House, Danielle.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there when it burned down.”

“No, I mean the property. I've lost it.”

“I don't understand.”

“I told you Mother had power of attorney for my grandfather, after he was committed. I didn't realize what a mess everything was. The property manager wasn't getting paid; the electric meter was pulled. But what's worse, the property tax wasn't being paid.”

“You've lost the land for back taxes?”

Heather nodded. “I had no idea. They sent the notices to the wrong address. I spoke to someone in the assessor's office, and she told me she was looking into it…that something looked odd.”

“Odd?”

“Yeah. Just between you and me, she said there was something odd about the file. I may have to get an attorney. Not that I can afford one now.”

“Have they sold the property yet?”

“Yes. Deep inside I know this entire thing isn't kosher. Something crooked went on.”