by Bobbi Holmes
“That’s great. Umm, do you know when she wants me to meet her?”
“Let me see.” Danielle sat down at the table and sent a text message to Heather. A few minutes later, she received one back. “She said she’ll meet you in front of the house in fifteen minutes.”
“Great,” Seraphina said, yet she didn’t sound or look like someone who thought anything was particularly great at the moment.
“Is something wrong?” Danielle asked.
Seraphina, who still held her cellphone, looked down at it a moment, then met Danielle’s gaze. “It’s Phoebe.”
“What’s Phoebe?” Danielle asked.
“I’ve been trying to get ahold of her since last night. She’s not answering her phone. And I called Josie, and she hasn’t heard from her.”
“Josie? Who’s that?” Danielle asked.
“She’s Phoebe’s roommate. They’re pretty close. When I talked to her last night, she said she hadn’t heard from Phoebe since Saturday morning. Those two normally text throughout the day. But Phoebe’s gone silent. I can understand Phoebe blowing off my phone calls and texts, but not Josie’s. Josie texted me this morning and told me she still hasn’t heard from Phoebe, and she’s not answering her calls either. Josie is kinda panicked. She went online and checked Phoebe’s credit cards and bank account this morning, and Phoebe hasn’t used any of her cards. She never said anything to Josie about leaving. That’s not like Phoebe.”
“Her roommate has the passwords to her bank accounts?” Danielle asked.
Seraphina smiled. “I told you they were close.”
Danielle knew exactly why Phoebe hadn’t used any of her credit or debit cards. Ghosts tended not to need cash or credit. Danielle thought Seraphina seemed sincerely concerned over Phoebe’s disappearance—either that or the woman was a good actress. And she was an actress.
“What are you going to do?” Danielle asked.
“I’m not sure. When the others get up, I want to talk to them about it. Maybe she said something to one of them.”
“Said something like what?” Danielle asked.
“Maybe she told one of them where she was going. And perhaps they didn’t want to get involved, so they didn’t say anything. Or maybe she mentioned something that they didn’t really think about at the time. I don’t know. But I have to do something. I can’t really call the police. They’re not going to do anything at this point.”
“Maybe they’ll ping her cellphone,” Danielle suggested.
“Can they really do that? I see that in movies.”
“Yeah. Of course, they have to have a good reason. But I’m pretty good friends with the local police chief. I’ll see if he can do anything.”
Seraphina stood up. “Would you? That would be great! If Phoebe wants to disappear for a while, I get that. But I just want to make sure something bad didn’t happen to her. I don’t even know who picked her up.”
“Okay, I’ll call the chief this morning.” She glanced at the kitchen clock. “But I’ll wait until he gets in the office.”
Minutes after Seraphina left to go jogging, Walt walked into the kitchen. He looked at the coffee pot and frowned. “What, no coffee?”
Danielle stood up from the table. “Sorry, I’ve been talking to Seraphina; she just left. I’ll make some now.”
Walt was already removing the pot to fill with water. He shooed her away when she tried to take it from him. Danielle sat back down at the table and told him about her conversation with Seraphina, while he made the coffee.
“At least now the chief will have a reason to ping her phone,” Walt said.
“I don’t think it’s going to help,” Danielle said.
“Why do you say that?”
“I hope it will help. That’s why I suggested it to Seraphina. And now the chief will have a legitimate reason to do it. But I suspect whoever killed Phoebe got rid of the phone. It’s probably at the bottom of the ocean by now, and all the pinging in the world is not going to help. Face it, you don’t have to watch many murder mysteries to know the police can track down people using their cellphones. And considering who our prime suspects are, they all know that.”
“Good morning!” a voice said brightly, just as the coffee finished brewing. Danielle and Walt looked toward the doorway leading to the hallway and found Bentley standing just inside the kitchen. Neither had heard him enter the room, and Danielle wondered what he had overheard.
“Ummm, morning, Bentley. You’re up early,” Danielle said. She watched as he stretched and then touched his toes.
“Yes, I am, aren’t I? I feel pretty good this morning. I’ve been having this chronic pain in my lower back. Jackie’s been telling me I need to see a doctor about it,” Bentley said.
“She’s right. You should,” Danielle said.
Bentley grinned. “It’s gone. I feel great!” He touched his toes again and then stood up. “Maybe it’s the climate up here?”
“Most people complain our damp climate causes aches and pains instead of getting rid of them,” Walt said.
Bentley shrugged. “Whatever, I’m just grateful. I think I’ll go for a little walk on the beach.”
“Do you want some coffee?” Danielle asked as Bentley headed for the door.
“No, thanks,” Bentley called out as he went outside.
“Oh crap,” Danielle said, staring at the door leading to the side yard.
Walt, who had been busy pouring them each a cup of coffee, turned to Danielle. “What’s wrong?”
“Umm, didn’t you notice anything when Bentley left just now?”
Walt shook his head. “No. What?”
“He walked through the door,” Danielle said dully.
“So? Isn’t that how most people go outside? Did you expect him to climb out the window?”
“No, Walt. He walked through the door—as in through the door. He didn’t open it.”
Walt set down the two cups of coffee he had been holding on the counter and turned to face Danielle. He looked past her to the back door. “Are you saying…”
“We have another ghost,” Danielle said.
“And where there is a ghost…” Walt began.
“…there’s another dead body. Although, we haven’t found the last one.”
The next moment Walt bolted from the kitchen, leaving the filled cups abandoned on the counter. Danielle followed him, and together they raced upstairs. When they got to the bedroom Bentley had shared with Phoebe, Walt opened the door without knocking. It was unlocked. Inside the room was empty. There was no dead body—nor did they find Bentley’s ghost.
They checked what rooms they could on the second floor without disturbing their still-sleeping guests. When they got downstairs again, they were greeted by Marie.
“Good, you’re here!” Danielle said excitedly.
“Nice to be appreciated,” Marie clucked. “Eva will be here shortly. You did ask us to stay with your guests when they’re up and around.” The reason for this, they wanted Marie and Eva to eavesdrop in case one of the guests privately revealed something about the murder.
Danielle quickly told Marie about Bentley. When Danielle completed the telling, Marie went to check the occupied guest rooms for any sign of Bentley—either in physical dead or spiritual form. A moment later Eva arrived, and after they filled her in on what was going on, she joined Marie.
“There’s another dead body?” Danielle heard the chief say. She had called him on the phone to give him the most recent update. He was still at home, but considering the new development, she didn’t want to wait until he got to the office to call. She and Walt sat alone in the parlor with the door closed, while Marie and Eva continued with their body scavenger hunt.
“Not exactly. There’s another ghost. We haven’t found the body yet,” Danielle said. She heard the chief groan.
“But the good news, now you can ping Phoebe’s phone. You said you couldn’t do it before. Can’t really start an investigation when no one has reported a
person missing. But now you can, right?”
“Yes, I can. But whoever the killer is, he or she seems rather adept at stashing bodies and concealing evidence. I’ll be surprised if anything pans out with the cellphone,” the chief said.
“I know. I told Walt the same thing. But at least we can try,” Danielle said.
“What I don’t understand, where are the ghosts?” the chief asked. “Why aren’t they telling you who killed them?”
“Maybe no one killed Bentley,” Danielle said hopefully.
“Are you suggesting he died of natural causes?” the chief asked. “If that was the case, wouldn’t his body be, I don’t know, still in his bed?”
“I didn’t say he died in his sleep,” Danielle countered. “Or even in his bed.”
“Was he a sickly man?” the chief asked.
“He did say something about chronic lower back pain. But I don’t think he was much older than me. Looked to be in fairly good shape. But who knows? I just don’t want to think about two murders.”
“Now you know how I feel,” the chief said.
“Hey, it’s hardly my fault. It’s not like Walt and I are bumping these people off.”
“True. But if you two couldn’t see ghosts, I could be contently oblivious to any possible local homicide and enjoy my morning coffee in peace.”
Twenty-Five
Shortly before Bentley’s ghost jogged into Marlow House’s kitchen, Pearl Huckabee was next door peeking through the opening in her bedroom window curtains, looking down to Beach Drive. The sun had just come up, and someone was standing in front of her house. It looked like her neighbor Heather Donovan. She wore a dark-colored jogging suit and her black hair tied up into a gawd-awful messy bun on the top of her head, strands of hair sticking out in all directions.
Pearl then noticed a second person jogging out from the side yard of Marlow House, heading toward Heather. It was a black woman wearing a baseball hat, her hair shoved under its cap. The next moment the woman was touching her toes while Heather did jumping jacks.
“Go do that in front of someone else’s house!” Pearl grumbled, turning from the window in disgust.
“Thanks for letting me tag along,” Seraphina told Heather as she loosened up for the jog.
“I enjoy the company. I’ve tried to get Danielle to go jogging, but she’d rather stay in bed with Walt on cold mornings than run with me.”
Seraphina laughed. “Well, I have to admit, I kinda understand that.”
Heather grinned. “Yeah, I guess. Let’s cross the street. I think old Pearl is done watching the show.”
“Pearl?” Seraphina asked.
“Just a neighbor I share with Walt and Danielle. I sometimes enjoy annoying her. But only to return the favor.”
“I don’t understand, return what favor?” Seraphina asked.
“All the times she annoys the heck out of me. I suppose it’s petty. But I never claimed to be a good person. We can get to the beach down by the side of Lily and Ian’s house.” Already running in place, Heather gave a little hand wave for Seraphina to follow her.
After looking both ways for traffic, Heather and Seraphina jogged across the street. The two women then continued down the side path along the Bartley house to the beach. Once there, they started jogging along the coastline, heading north.
“This is so different from Southern California beaches,” Seraphina said. “I can’t believe how quiet it is.”
“Lots cooler too,” Heather said, pointing ahead. “That’s the house Chris is having built.” A moment later they stopped by Chris’s new house. Construction was almost complete.
“He told me about his house burning down before Christmas,” Seraphina said.
“Yeah, the idiot left a pan on the stove and the burner on. Luckily no one was hurt.”
Seraphina looked from the house to Heather. “He also told me who he really is.”
Heather didn’t respond.
“He told me he’s really Chris Glandon.”
“He told you that?” Heather asked. According to what Eva had confided, Chris never told the women he went out with who he really was. Eva claimed it was because he hadn’t met one he cared enough about to share that secret with. Someone in his position was never sure if the woman wanted him—or his fortune.
Seraphina had money, like Danielle. That was one reason Chris had become comfortable with Danielle—she had her own money. Plus, money never seemed to be as important to Danielle as other women.
Of course, when you had money, it was always easy to say you didn’t really care about it, Heather thought. Heather happened to be in another category. She didn’t have a lot of money—although she had a comfortable salary, thanks to her job with the Glandon Foundation and Chris. But over the last few years she had been tested—faced with giving up a fortune for the sake of principals and ethics, or keeping it because she needed the cash. Heather had passed the test both times. Although, she had to admit, having enough money to pay your bills sure reduced the stresses of life.
“Are you surprised?” Seraphina asked, jolting Heather’s thoughts back to the current here and now.
“Surprised he let you in on his secret?”
“Yeah. He told me he doesn’t usually tell anyone. Although he says most of Frederickport knows—says it is sort of an open secret, one the locals don’t share.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” Heather said. “Of course, the Glandon Foundation does a lot for the local community. I don’t think they want the golden goose to relocate to another town.”
Heather avoided asking the initial question—was she surprised he told her. Yes, actually, she was. Under other circumstances she wouldn’t be. But Seraphina, according to Danielle, was the prime suspect in Phoebe’s murder. They still hadn’t found the woman’s body, and until they did, her killer might never be found. Was Seraphina that killer? Heather wondered. It was obvious Chris was fairly certain she wasn’t.
Pushing thoughts of Seraphina being the possible killer from her head, Heather redirected the conversation to Chris’s house as opposed to his identity. She discussed the changes between this new house and the old one for a few minutes before suggesting they continue with their morning run.
As they jogged by Chris’s neighbor to the north a few minutes later, Heather pointed out it was where the tunnel from the Marlows’ led.
“Walt said it was unsafe. Sounded like the tunnel will never be open again,” Seraphina said.
Heather laughed. “Yeah, right.”
Jogging by Heather’s side, Seraphina flashed her a frown. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not unsafe. Walt just doesn’t like to open up the tunnel. Don’t tell them I said that; he’ll kill me. Fact is, the historical society has been nagging Walt and the Crawfords, they’re the ones who own the house I just showed you, to open up the tunnel for a tour.”
“So it’s safe to go down there?” she asked.
“Yeah, according to the engineer who inspected it.”
As they continued down the beach, it became more difficult to talk and jog, so they each focused on maintaining a comfortable pace and steady breathing. Heather felt a brief pang of regret for being a blabbermouth and telling Seraphina the tunnel was safe when Walt obviously wanted to give the opposite impression. But then she figured, if Chris felt safe enough sharing his big secret with the woman, then the tunnel secret was not that big a deal.
The joggers approached the point where Heather normally turned around, when something in the sand ahead caught Heather’s attention. It looked like a pile of debris—old clothes and maybe a blanket. It wasn’t someone sleeping on the beach, the pile was right at the waterline, being pushed about by the incoming waves.
“Damn jerks,” Heather grumbled.
“What?” Seraphina said.
Heather nodded ahead. “Someone dumped some trash on the beach. I hate when they do that.”
Several minutes later, as they got close to the pile, Heather stopped abru
ptly. She reached out and grabbed hold of Seraphina’s right wrist, pulling her to a stop.
“Not again!’ Heather said with a curse.
“What?” Seraphina asked, rubbing her wrist from the abrupt wrenching. “Why did you do that?”
Heather pointed to the pile. “Because it is not a pile of trash. It is another freaking dead body!”
Seraphina looked from Heather to the pile. “What do you mean, another body?”
“I’d say that is an arm sticking out.” Heather pulled out her cellphone, making no attempt to move closer.
“Shouldn’t we go check?” Seraphina asked. “Maybe he needs our help. Maybe he’s not dead?”
“Oh, he’s dead alright,” Heather grumbled.
“How do you know?”
“Because I only find dead bodies on the beach. It’s sort of my thing. But yeah, I guess we should check.” And I bet it’s a she, not a he, she thought to herself.
Heather and Seraphina approached the body, and just before they could tell if it was a man or woman, Chief MacDonald answered the call.
“Hey, Chief, it’s Heather. I’m on the beach jogging. I did it again. I found another body. I think it’s her,” Heather told him.
“Where?” he asked.
“South from Chris’s house,” she told him.
When Heather and Seraphina looked down at the body, Heather realized she had been wrong. It was not a woman after all. It was a man.
“Dang, I was wrong, Chief. It’s a guy,” she told him, still holding the cellphone to her ear as she looked down at the waterlogged corpse.
Seraphina let out a gasp and said, “Bentley,” at the same time the chief asked, “Is it Bentley Mason?”
Heather looked from Seraphina to the phone in her hand before putting the phone back to her ear. “How did you know, Chief?”
She felt as if someone had hit her over the head with a hammer. The throbbing wouldn’t stop. With a groan, she rested her right wrist on her forehead and then moaned again. Reluctantly Polly opened her bloodshot eyes, dropped her wrist back to the mattress, and looked to the ceiling. It had been a bizarre dream. How much had she had to drink? Teddy had told her countless times to never drink gin. She couldn’t handle it. Then to mix it with wine. The thought made her want to puke. She was surprised she hadn’t gotten sick. But maybe she had, and she couldn’t remember. If she did, Teddy was going to kill her if he had to clean it up.
