The Ghost and the Silver Scream

by Bobbi Holmes

  “Maybe he’s planning to get it fixed himself,” Bill suggested.

  “I suppose.” Adam shrugged.

  Bill stepped off the path and started toward the window.

  “What are you doing?” Adam asked. “Let’s go around front and ring the bell. I don’t want you looking in a renter’s window.”

  Ignoring Adam, Bill continued to the house and said, “I just want to see if he cleaned up the glass yet.” Standing on tiptoes, Bill looked down to the floor inside. “Nope. Hasn’t been cleaned up.” He then moved to the window of the second bedroom, which hadn’t been broken, and looked inside.

  “Bill, don’t go looking in windows,” Adam said. “Like a freaking Peeping Tom. The guy’s there.”

  Now peering in the window, Bill said, “Umm…Adam…how many people did you say are staying here?”

  “One, why?”

  “A big guy?” Bill asked, still looking inside the house.

  “Yes. Get away from there before he walks into the room.”

  Bill knocked loudly on the window and then said, “Too late. He’s already in the room. And either he’s out cold…or dead.”

  Adam stood on the sidewalk in front of the Marshall house, the cellphone to his ear, as a hubbub of activity went on around him. Brian Henderson and Joe Morelli had responded to the call. Someone from the coroner’s office had already arrived; however the body hadn’t yet been removed.

  Bill stood near his truck, chatting with some of the curious neighbors who had showed up to see why all the police cars were there.

  Wilks had been dead, alright. Shot in the back, according to what Brian had told Adam.

  Adam waited for Danielle to answer his call.

  “Hi, Adam. What’s up?” came Danielle’s voice over the phone.

  “Hate to tell you this, but you know Wilks, your guy I rented the house to?” Adam asked.

  “What about him?” Danielle asked.

  “He’s dead,” Adam said.

  “What? What do you mean dead?”

  “What do you think I mean? Dead. You know, no longer alive.”

  “What happened?” Danielle asked.

  “Came over to the house to check on a broken window and found his body.”

  “I don’t believe this,” Danielle groaned.

  “This week does not seem to be going well for you. I heard about the drowning this morning.”

  “What happened to Wilks? Heart attack?” Danielle asked.

  “Why do you say heart attack?”

  “The guy was pretty big, and his food choices when he was here were not the healthiest.”

  “Says the woman who thinks cinnamon rolls are a food group.”

  “Hey, you eat them too,” Danielle reminded him.

  “Well, the cinnamon rolls didn’t kill him. Which should make us both feel better. But I suspect it was the bullet to his back.”

  “Bullet? He was shot?” Danielle gasped.

  “Yep. It looks like he was sitting at the desk at his computer, writing. Brian doesn’t think he saw it coming.”

  “Why would someone kill him?” Danielle asked, not expecting an answer.

  “The place was ransacked. They found his wallet on the floor by him. It was empty, only had his driver’s license. Everything in the bathroom medicine cabinets was on the floor.”

  “Someone looking for drugs and money?” Danielle asked.

  “Looks that way. But the only drugs they would have gotten were any Wilks’s brought, if he had any with him. Only thing in the medicine cabinets here are items we leave for our guests, bars of soap, shampoo. No medicine.”

  “You said Brian is there?” Danielle asked.

  “Yeah, he and Joe answered the call. Here comes Brian now. I’ll call you back.”

  Police Chief MacDonald stood in the middle of the living room at Marlow House late Tuesday morning, surrounded by its remaining guests, along with Walt and Danielle. Marie and Eva were there too, but only Walt and Danielle could see or hear them.

  “I don’t believe it,” Jackie said for the third time. “Dead. Chase is dead? Who’s going to finish the screenplay?”

  “Good lord, Jackie, is that all you have to say?” Julius asked.

  Jackie looked unapologetically to her husband. “I do have responsibilities, something you know nothing about,” she spat.

  Julius turned bright red but closed his mouth and did not respond.

  Polly and Seraphina sat together on the sofa with Birdie, silently listening to what the others had to say.

  “You said he was shot?” Birdie asked. “Why would anyone want to murder Chase?”

  “It looks as if he was sitting at his desk when someone broke into the house. We believe they came through a window in one of the bedrooms. He was in the other bedroom at the desk. Apparently working at his computer. The house was ransacked. His wallet was emptied, and whoever it was went through the medicine cabinets in the bathrooms.”

  “Drugs,” Birdie said, shaking her head. “Drugs make people do horrible things.”

  “That’s what it looks like at the moment. But it’s too early in the investigation to tell,” the chief said.

  MacDonald looked at Walt and Danielle and said, “I was wondering if we could talk alone, in the parlor?”

  Ten minutes later MacDonald sat in the parlor with Walt and Danielle, while Eva and Marie continued to supervise the remaining guests, listening for any clues.

  “Do you believe this was some random killer?” Danielle asked. “We don’t have those kinds of break-ins in Frederickport.”

  “I believe it was made to look that way,” MacDonald said. “But considering what has been going on with your guests, I find it hard to believe Chase fell victim to some drug-crazed killer, while others in his group are being killed one by one.

  “What doesn’t make sense to me,” Danielle began. “You said it looked like he was surprised, that someone shot him from behind, and he didn’t see it coming. But if the killer entered through the window, how did Chase not hear the glass breaking if he was just in the next room?”

  “The television was on in his room. So it’s possible the killer broke the window to gain access, and Chase didn’t hear him.”

  “That’s not what happened,” Chase said, suddenly appearing in the room.

  “Chase!” Danielle gasped.

  “You can see me?” Chase asked.

  “You know you’re dead?” Walt asked.

  Chase turned from Danielle to Walt. “And you can see me too?”

  “Don’t tell me, Wilks’s ghost is here?” the chief asked. “If he is, don’t let him leave until he tells us who killed him. I’d like to solve at least one of these murders!”

  Wilks turned to the chief. “I take it you can’t see me.”

  “Who killed you?” Walt asked.

  “I’m rather impressed how well you have accepted your death,” Danielle said.

  Wilks shrugged. “All this is great material. But unfortunately I won’t be able to write about it. And I wish I could tell you who killed me, but I have no idea.”

  “What did you mean when you said that’s not what happened?” Walt asked.

  Chase looked to Walt. “The last thing I remember—when I was alive, I was sitting at my computer, writing. And then I felt it. Knocked me clear to the beach. I couldn’t figure out what in the heck had happened, but when I went back in the house, there I was sitting at the desk, slumped over, a bullet in my back. And the television was on. I never watch TV when I’m writing. I don’t listen to music either. I need quiet.”

  “So the killer turned on the TV before he left?” Walt asked.

  “I sure didn’t turn it on,” Chase said.

  “If you need quiet, didn’t you hear the intruder breaking the window in the next room?” Danielle asked.

  Chase shook his head. “No. And about that, why break the window to get in? The front door was unlocked. I never locked the front door. Didn’t think I needed to. But I guess I
was wrong about that, wasn’t I?”

  Thirty-One

  “Chief MacDonald! Oh, Chief MacDonald!” Pearl called out as she pushed open her front gate and hurried out to the sidewalk in front of her house. Wearing a navy blue jogging suit and a knit cap, she hurried as fast as her tennis shoes would take her, making her way to the police car parked in front of Marlow House.

  About to get into the vehicle, MacDonald paused a moment and watched Pearl approach.

  “Chief MacDonald, did you find out why that man went swimming so late at night?” Pearl asked when she reached him, slightly out of breath.

  “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can say at this time,” he said. “It’s too early in the investigation.”

  “I know the Marlows are free to have whatever nonpaying guests they want, you remind me of that often enough,” Pearl began. “But this coming and going at all hours of the night should be illegal. If nothing else, it’s rude. Some of us are trying to sleep. And look what happened to that young man. If he had stayed in his bed, like a sensible person, he wouldn’t have drowned.”

  “Mrs. Huckabee, who exactly is coming and going at all times of the night?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I just know it was after 3:30 in the morning. I know that because I happened to look at my clock. But whoever it was got into that car.” Pearl pointed to the rental car parked behind MacDonald’s vehicle. “And then whoever it was came back about a half hour later.”

  “Did you see the car leave?” he asked.

  “Of course. I looked out my window. Whoever it was came out the back door and got into that car. Later, when I heard them return, I peeked out the window and saw them running like the devil was after them from the street to the back door.”

  “Was it a man or woman?”

  “I couldn’t tell. The moon was out, but I couldn’t make out who they were. It was just a dark figure.”

  “And you said they were running?”

  “Oh yes. Like the devil was after them.”

  “Did you notice if they had long hair?” he asked.

  Pearl frowned. “No. Whoever it was wore a cap of some sort, and a bulky jacket and dark pants. Like I said, it could have been a man or woman.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Huckabee, I appreciate you telling me. One of my officers will be back to take a formal statement from you.”

  Pearl perked up. “Really? So you’re actually going to do something about this?”

  “Most certainly,” MacDonald told her.

  After bidding her goodbye, MacDonald returned to Marlow House instead of getting into his car. When he knocked on the front door a few minutes later, Danielle was surprised to see him again.

  “Did you forget something?” Danielle asked, standing at the open doorway.

  “I think we need to talk again,” he said seriously.

  A few minutes later MacDonald sat in the parlor with Walt and Danielle. He had just asked Danielle and Walt to tell him whose rental car was parked in front of his police car.

  “That’s the car Birdie rented,” Danielle said.

  “What’s this about?” Walt asked.

  The chief then told Walt and Danielle what Pearl had shared with him outside.

  “Well, it couldn’t have been Birdie,” Danielle said when he was done. “She uses a cane and doesn’t get around that well. I can’t imagine that’s who Pearl saw running.”

  “Who else drives that car?” MacDonald asked.

  “Phoebe was the one who drove it here. As far as I know, no one has driven that car since Phoebe disappeared.” Danielle said.

  “You mean since Phoebe was killed?” the chief corrected.

  Danielle cringed. “Yeah. I believe Birdie was going to add Seraphina to the insurance so she could drive them back to Portland. Birdie says she doesn’t feel comfortable driving anymore, not since her accident.”

  “What accident was that?” MacDonald asked.

  “I’m not sure. I just assume it’s why she uses a cane now. As for that car, anyone could have taken it. The keys have been sitting in a bowl in the kitchen since we came back from touring the Glandon Foundation. That’s where Phoebe put them, and I noticed them there this morning,” Danielle said.

  “You think one of our guests went over to Chase’s beach house last night and killed him?” Walt asked.

  “That’s what it’s starting to look like.”

  “Chase did tell us the front door was unlocked,” Walt said. “That means, if one of them went over there to kill him, they could have come through the door without even knocking.”

  “And had it been locked, they could have knocked and he would have let them in, and he’d be just as dead,” Danielle added.

  “Except, if that had been the scenario, Chase’s ghost could have identified his shooter,” Walt reminded her.

  “If he remembered. Which is not always the case,” Danielle added.

  Walt looked at the chief and asked, “What now?”

  “I would like to interview all of them again, but I would rather do it down at the police station, one at a time.”

  “You want me to round up the suspects and send them down there?” Danielle asked.

  “Yes. But let them think this is routine,” the chief said.

  “Okay. I’ll get them down there,” Danielle promised. “But first, let me tell you everything Marie and Eva overheard.”

  Brian and Joe stood in the small office, looking through the two-way mirror, watching Julius Stafford, who sat at the only table in the adjacent interrogation room. They guessed he was in his fifties, a pleasant enough looking man, with a full head of gray hair and wire-rimmed glasses.

  “Once again the chief is asking the questions. We found the body,” Joe complained.

  “You know why,” Brian reminded him. The chief had told them he had received some anonymous information and felt it best if he asked the questions.

  “Have you noticed how he’s always receiving anonymous information these days?” Joe asked.

  “Only seems to happen when the case involves Marlow House,” Brian muttered.

  If Joe heard Brian’s comment, he didn’t respond. The next moment the chief walked into the interrogation room.

  “Mr. Stafford, I appreciate you coming down here,” the chief said, extending his hand. Julius stood briefly, shook the police chief’s hand, and then both men sat down at the table. The chief set the folder he had been holding on the table.

  “This is just horrendous about Chase,” Julius said. “Who would do such a horrible thing?” He shook his head.

  “Did you know Mr. Wilks well?” the chief asked.

  Julius shrugged. “Well enough, I suppose. My wife worked with Chase on another picture. That’s when I first met him. In fact, all of us worked on that project. Well, all of those staying at Marlow House.”

  “You worked on the project?” the chief asked.

  Julius blushed. “Not officially. But I usually accompany my wife on business trips, and I help out when I can. I like to think I’m part of the team.”

  “Do you know anyone on your team who had an issue with Chase?” the chief asked.

  “If you’re thinking one of us had anything to do with what happened to him, there is no way. Absolutely not.”

  “So no one had an issue with him?” the chief asked.

  “If we killed off everyone we had issues with in this industry, there would be no one left alive in Hollywood.”

  “Humor me,” the chief said. “What was your issue with Chase?”

  “My issue? I didn’t have a problem with him. He was good at his job. A little obnoxious at times. But nothing worth killing over.”

  “Not even to keep him from talking?” the chief asked.

  Julius frowned. “I don’t understand. Talking about what?”

  “You and Bentley?” the chief asked.

  Joe looked at Brian. “Bentley? Is he talking about the guy who drowned?”

  Brian smiled and arched his brows,
his gaze still on the two men in the interrogation room. “This is getting interesting.”

  Julius closed his eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and then looked across the table at the chief. “I’m assuming someone overheard Chase’s and my conversation last night. But I will assure you, I had no reason to kill Chase to keep him quiet.”

  “Why should I believe you?” MacDonald asked.

  “For one thing, my wife already knows.”

  “Yes, I know about Bentley and Julius’s little indiscretion,” Jackie said when it was her turn in the interrogation room. “We didn’t want Bentley to know I knew. But now, poor Bentley is dead, it’s rather a moot point, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you want Bentley to know you knew?” he asked.

  “It would have been horribly awkward. And Bentley was absolutely the best assistant I ever had. You have no idea how difficult it is to find reliable people you can count on. It was one of those things, too much alcohol. But now…now I have to go through that tedious hiring practice again. I’m not looking forward to that.”

  “Would you have been upset had Chase told someone else about Julius and Bentley’s secret?” he asked.

  “I don’t know why,” Jackie said. “In the big scheme of things, that is hardly a huge deal, now is it? It’s not like we had a prenup like Teddy. But then in that case, it wouldn’t really mattered who knew beside me and my husband.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jackie shrugged. “Polly had to sign a prenup when she married Teddy. Her brother is an attorney and he didn’t like the prenup; after all, if Teddy divorced her for any reason, she wouldn’t get a dime. But Teddy finally agreed to include a clause that said if he cheated, Polly would get half of his estate. So in their case, infidelity could cost him a great deal.”

  “Considering how long they’ve been married, I can’t imagine she wouldn’t get something in a divorce anyway,” the chief said.