“Ugh…” Lily rubbed her stomach again.
“Lily, if you plan to get sick, perhaps you should go outside,” Walt teased.
“I get no sympathy from you two.”
“I did offer to make you a sandwich,” Danielle reminded her.
“Yeah, well, it was my fault. I didn’t see anyone shoving those cookies in my mouth but me.” She looked to Danielle. “It would probably be a good idea to take some down to the station. Less for me to eat.”
Walt stood up and looked to Danielle. “You want to go now?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll go get my jacket.”
Danielle nodded. “Okay.”
Walt gave her a quick kiss, told Lily goodbye, and left the room.
Lily stood in the kitchen and watched him leave. After he disappeared down the hall, she shook her head and sat back down. “I still can’t get over that.”
“Why? I mean seriously, why?”
Lily studied Danielle a moment before answering. “I don’t remember you and Lucas being particularly—well, affectionate. And then you dated Joe for a brief time—and then Chris. I don’t know, you always seemed reserved. Aside from a New Year’s kiss—which really doesn’t count—I don’t think I ever saw you kiss either one of them.”
Danielle smiled at Lily. “They weren’t Walt.”
Brian Henderson walked into the break room, eating a chocolate cookie. Joe Morelli, who was just finishing his lunch, looked up and frowned.
“Is that one of Danielle’s chocolate drop cookies?” Joe asked.
Brian nodded and sat down at the table with Joe while shoving the remaining cookie in his mouth.
“Where’d you get it?”
Brian licked a smidge of chocolate off his thumb and nodded toward the door. “Danielle just came in with Marlow. She left a big box of cookies at the front desk, and they were headed to the chief’s office with another box.”
“She’s here with Marlow?” Joe asked.
“You’re the one who told me they were dating now. I’m not surprised. They always seem to be together anyway.”
Joe shook his head. “I just don’t get those two. It’s like he’s a different person.”
Brian shrugged. “Maybe he is.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He does have amnesia. From all accounts he hasn’t regained his memory. So I suppose, in some ways, it’s like he was reborn—a blank slate,” Brian suggested.
“It’s weird,” Joe grumbled.
“Don’t let Kelly hear you say that. She might think you still have feelings for Danielle,” Brian teased.
“Kelly thinks it’s weird too.”
“I have to admit the entire thing is somewhat bizarre. Especially considering how much he looks like the original Walt Marlow,” Brian conceded.
“I remember when I first met Danielle. She was investigating his death. The guy had been dead for almost ninety years, but she was determined to prove he was murdered and hadn’t committed suicide. Looking back, I think I was taken in by a pretty face, and I didn’t stop and consider the entire thing—her interest—was odd.”
Brian shrugged. “Some people love a good mystery. And she had just moved in to the house. A lot of people are into local history. Look at Frederickport’s historical society. Also proof that sometimes people get a little carried away, especially considering the shenanigans they tried pulling on Danielle.”
“I suppose. But you have to admit, so many odd things have happened at Marlow House. For example, remember that letter Marlow wrote—the original Walt Marlow?” Joe asked.
Brian shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Back when those gold coins disappeared from the bank, and those people were staying at Marlow House and they tried to steal the Missing Thorndike. The guy was a cousin of the bank manager.”
“Yeah, I remember. What about it?” Brian asked.
“Someone locked the woman in the bathroom and left a note telling what they were up to. At the time we thought Chris wrote the letter.”
Furrowing his brow, Brian considered what Joe was saying. “I forgot all about that. The handwriting in the note matched the handwriting of Walt Marlow—the letters Marie Nichols had given Danielle.”
“Just an example of some of the weird crap that’s gone on in that house.”
Brian stared blankly past Joe, thinking about how months earlier he had discovered the eerie similarity between the signatures of the original Walt Marlow—the one murdered in the attic of Marlow House—and the current Walt Marlow, the man who used to call himself Clint Marlow. He wondered—how would the handwriting in general compare between the two Marlows?
“Are you serious?” Danielle asked the chief. She and Walt sat with him in his office with the door closed. “Chris’s uncle Loyd asked Brian and Joe to investigate Heather?”
“Yes. But I suppose I can understand,” the chief said.
“Understand? His uncle is a jerk!” Danielle snapped.
“Come on, Danielle. Think about it,” the chief said. “Chris is a very wealthy man, and Heather does come off—well, a little quirky. He’s just concerned about his nephew.”
“Danielle’s right.” Walt spoke up. “Although I wouldn’t use the term jerk. Maniacal might be more apt. For whatever reason, Loyd Glandon is attempting to sow the seeds of suspicion regarding Heather. The question is, why?”
“I disagree. He’s just worried about his nephew,” MacDonald argued.
“No, Chief.” Walt shook his head. “Loyd Glandon has repeated conversations he supposedly has had with Heather and Chris—which I know have been fabricated. And it’s not because Heather has contradicted Loyd, it’s because there have been witnesses to the conversations that he was not aware of.”
“Witnesses? What witnesses?” the chief asked.
“Marie and Eva,” Walt explained.
“Marie—as in Marie Nichols? And Eva as in—”
“Yes, Eva Thorndike. Ghosts,” Walt finished for him.
“There you go throwing around that ghost word,” Danielle teased.
Ignoring Danielle’s comment, the chief looked at Walt and said, “Why would the uncles be making up stories?”
“Danielle discussed it with Chris this morning,” Walt said.
“Chris has been coming over for breakfast, since his uncles are staying with us,” Danielle explained. “Heather seems to think they just want Chris to fire her because they don’t like her. But Chris is starting to wonder if his uncles—especially Loyd—are just getting senile. He figures if their end goal really is to just get her fired, it’s a strange way to go about it. But if they did ask Joe and Brian to check into her background, maybe this really is just about getting her fired. Maybe they’re hoping something horrible will come up that’ll force Chris to get rid of her.”
“It just proves sometimes family can be a major pain,” the chief grumbled.
“I might agree in Chris’s case. But for me—especially this time of year—I miss my family. Even Cheryl, who could be a major pain.” Danielle glanced up to the ceiling and added, “Sorry, Cheryl.”
Walt shifted the direction of the conversation a few minutes later by asking, “Are the boys excited for Christmas?”
“What do you think? They’re kids.” MacDonald laughed. “It’s been nice having my in-laws here this week, spending time with the boys while I have to work. I feel guilty when they’re off for Christmas break and I can’t be home with them, like their mother would have been.”
“Maybe you should get remarried?” Danielle suggested.
MacDonald laughed. “I tell you what, when you get married, I’ll start looking for a wife.”
Walt chuckled.
Danielle grinned. “Deal.” Giggling, she stood up to seal the deal with a handshake when she glanced down and spied something on the chief’s desk that caught her attention.
“What’s this?” She picked up a large photograp
h.
The chief glanced at what was in her hand. “A missing person.”
Still holding the photograph, she stared at it and sat back down on her chair. “She’s not missing. She’s staying at Marlow House.”
The chief stood up. “Are you serious?”
Danielle nodded and showed the photo to Walt.
“It looks like Zara,” Walt noted.
“Did you say Zara?” the chief asked, now frantically looking for the letter that had accompanied the photograph.
“Yeah. Zara Bishop. Her and her husband are staying at Marlow House through Christmas. So what’s the deal?” Danielle asked.
Now holding the letter he had been looking for, MacDonald quickly reread its contents. He shook his head. “According to this, her name is Zara, but not Zara Bishop, and she’s not married. Her name is Zara Leighton and she went missing the end of May.”
“Who sent you this?” Walt asked.
“It came from Leighton’s roommate, Corky Summers. Summers was frustrated that the local police weren’t taking her case seriously, so she decided to do her own investigation. Apparently, Ms. Leighton had used Summer’s computer to do some research, and one location she was looking at was Frederickport.”
“What was she researching?” Walt asked.
“Summers didn’t know. But she suspected she was searching for her family. According to Summers, Leighton had been raised in foster care.”
“Or maybe she was looking for honeymoon spots?” Danielle suggested.
“Are you saying Zara is on her honeymoon?” the chief asked.
“She didn’t say they were on their honeymoon exactly, but when she made her reservation, she made a comment about them being newlyweds. I have to assume it’s the same woman, they look just alike, and they have the same first name. Zara isn’t exactly a common name. Maybe she isn’t missing—her roommate just doesn’t know where she went.”
Walt looked at the chief. “I have to agree with her. The woman staying at Marlow House is probably the same one in the photograph, for the reasons Danielle mentioned. The Zara we’ve met seems quite content to be with her husband, so perhaps she simply does not want her roommate to know where she is—or that she got married.”
“But why did she leave all her belongings behind?” the chief asked.
Danielle shrugged. “Maybe she intended to come back for them later.”
“Odd that she’d leave her cameras. Summers claims Leighton is a professional freelance photographer.”
“I’ve no idea. But she must have had her reasons,” Danielle said.
“If this woman doesn’t want her roommate to know where she is, I wonder if she knows Summers is looking for her. I should probably go over to Marlow House and talk with her. Let her know her roommate is looking for her—that she has been sending out those flyers to various police stations. She can decide what she wants to do about it.”
“I think that would be a good idea,” Danielle agreed. “Can I read the letter the roommate sent you?”
“Sure.” The chief leaned over his desk and handed Danielle the sheet of paper.
“Hmm…” Danielle muttered as she read the letter.
“What?” Walt asked.
“The description fits—right height, body type. Says here she has a feather tattoo on the back of her neck. I don’t recall seeing that, but I really didn’t look. The name really clinches it.” Danielle glanced to Walt and smiled. “Of course, if our Zara doesn’t have a feather tattoo, we’ll know it’s another same-name doppelgänger.”
Twenty-Nine
It was the third—maybe fourth—time Noah had reread the page. The novel had been on his must-read list for some time. It was by his favorite science fiction author, but concentrating was an impossible task considering all that was going on. Reclining on the bed, he looked up to Zara, who stood at the bedroom window, looking down at the street.
“Simon just pulled up,” Zara told him without turning around.
“Is he coming in?” Noah asked, still stretched out on the bed, his head resting on several pillows piled against the headboard.
Zara didn’t answer immediately. Instead she silently watched to see what Simon was doing. Finally, she shook her head. “No. It looks like he’s picking up Loyd.”
“Those two are a pair,” Noah grumbled. He closed the book and tossed it next to him on the bed.
“Yes, I was right. Loyd’s getting in the car.”
“You think they took it with them?” Noah asked.
Still gazing out the window, Zara shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe it’s time,” Noah suggested.
“If we could get ahold of that document, then you could take a picture of it. It would give us something to show Chris rather than just telling him our crazy story.”
“Then let’s do it now,” Noah said, getting up from the bed. “Let’s see if it’s in his room.”
“What if the room is locked?” Zara asked.
“We won’t know unless we try.”
Zara followed Noah to the door. The moment he opened it, Zara cried, “Close the door! That cat’s out there!”
Noah shut the door and turned to Zara. “Are you going to let a cat keep you locked up in here?”
Zara shook her head emphatically. “I can’t deal with that cat right now.”
“Just don’t look at him. Think of something else; keep your mind off it. You can do it,” Noah urged.
Zara closed her eyes for a few moments—concentrating—and then she opened them again and nodded. “Okay, I can do this.”
Noah opened the door and peeked out into the hallway. Max sat by Danielle’s closed bedroom door, his golden eyes looking Noah’s way as his tail swished back and forth behind him.
“Okay, he’s by Danielle’s door. Just don’t look at him. Pretend he’s not there.”
“Easy for you to say,” Zara grumbled. Hesitantly she followed Noah out of the bedroom, leaving the door ajar. Together they moved quickly down the hallway and past the black cat. Max didn’t follow them. Instead, he remained by Danielle’s room, watching the pair.
When they reached Loyd’s room a few minutes later, they found it unlocked.
“Yes!” Zara exclaimed when Noah opened the bedroom door. Together they started looking through the room, with Noah opening dresser drawers and Loyd’s suitcase while Zara looked around the room and in the closet and bathroom.
“I don’t think it’s here,” Noah finally said.
“Dang. I should have realized that when we found the door unlocked. He’s certainly not going to leave that around for someone to see,” Zara grumbled. “Especially if Chris happened to come into his room.”
“Oh crap!”
Zara turned to Noah; he stood at the bedroom window, looking outside. “What is it?”
“It’s a police car; it just parked in front of the house. And it looks like Walt and Danielle just pulled in behind it.”
“You get out of here; I’ll stay. If they’re bringing some cop in the house, I don’t need to be in the entry when he walks in. If Danielle asks where I am, say I took a walk.”
With a nod, Noah hastily left the room, closing the door behind him. He made it to the living room sofa by the time he heard the front door opening. Looking around frantically, Noah spied a magazine on the coffee table and picked it up. Opening it, he pretended to read.
A few minutes later he heard Danielle say, “Hello, Noah.” She walked in the living room with Walt and a man Noah had never seen before.
Noah looked up from the magazine and smiled. “Afternoon, Danielle, Walt.”
“Umm…Noah, I would like you to meet a friend of ours, Police Chief MacDonald. Chief, this is one of our guests, Noah Bishop.”
Noah closed the magazine and tossed it back on the coffee table before he stood up and shook the chief’s hand in greeting.
“Actually, Mr. Bishop, I’m here to speak to your wife,” the chief explained.
“Zara? Why do you want to talk to her?”
“Is she in her room?” the chief asked.
Walt stood silently by Danielle, listening, when he heard a meow. He turned around and spied Max sitting in the doorway, watching.
Noah shook his head. “No, she went for a walk. I don’t expect her back for a couple of hours. What is this about?”
Walt frowned at Max. Who doesn’t like you?
“A couple of hours? That’s quite a walk,” the chief said.
Noah shrugged. “She wanted to do some Christmas shopping and decided to walk down to the shops.”
Walt glanced from Max to Noah, back to the cat. Maybe she’s allergic.
The chief glanced at his watch. “I suppose I can come back later when she returns.”
“What is this about?” Noah asked. “Why would the police be interested in my wife?”
Don’t take it personally, Walt silently conveyed to the cat.
“Mr. Bishop, how long have you and your wife been married?” the chief asked.
“Not long, why?”
“What’s your wife’s maiden name?” the chief asked.
“Maiden name?” Noah frowned.
“Or the surname she used before you two were married,” the chief clarified.
“Ummm…Smith. Why?”
“How long have you known your wife?” the chief asked.
“I met her in middle school. What is this about? Why do you want to talk to my wife?”
“A missing person’s report came across my desk, with a photograph of the woman, and according to Danielle, she looks just like your wife.”
Noah stared at the chief a moment and then let out a sigh and sat back down on the sofa. “That’s what this is about? Some woman in a photograph resembles my wife? That’s all it is, a resemblance. I can assure you my wife is not a missing person.”
“Are you sure your wife’s last name didn’t used to be Leighton?” the chief asked.
“I think I know my wife’s maiden name.”
“The reason I ask, the missing woman is named Zara…Zara Leighton,” the chief told him.
Noah stared at the chief a moment and then said, “That is an interesting coincidence; they have the same first name. I suppose I can see why you wondered if it was her. But, no, it is not the same woman.”
The Ghost of Christmas Secrets Page 19
