by Bobbi Holmes
“You really should do a story on that woman, she is so sharp. You’d never know she was 106.” Lily speared a piece of lobster and dunked it in melted butter.
“I still can’t get over the fact Danielle is determined to prove Walt Marlow didn’t commit suicide.”
“I can understand. How would you feel if everyone thought you killed yourself, and the person who murdered you went free?”
“I imagine I’d be dead at that point, and really wouldn’t care what people thought.”
“I don’t believe that.” Lily shook her head.
“What, that I wouldn’t care after I was dead?”
“No, that you wouldn’t care now. Come on, be honest with yourself. If you knew that when you died everyone would think something really horrible about you—something that wasn’t true and was embarrassing, wouldn’t you hate that?”
“I suppose so, but once I’m dead it would become sort of a moot point. But, it is a good mystery. And I do love mysteries.”
“Speaking of mysteries, I think Danielle is wrong. I don’t think kids broke into the house this morning.”
“Then how did the window get broken? I can understand the open front door; it may not have been closed all the way when you left this morning.”
“No. Someone was in the house. I have no doubt about that. But I don’t think it was kids just goofing around, like Danielle thinks. I have a feeling whoever it was, was looking for something.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Cupboards and drawers that were shut when we left were ajar, as if someone had opened them and didn’t shut them all the way. I could tell someone went in my closet, my suitcase was moved. But nothing was taken. Why would someone search through the house but not take anything? My iPad was sitting on the dresser in clear sight, and they didn’t touch it. I think that is bizarre.”
“And you haven’t mentioned this to Danielle yet?” Ian picked up his glass of water and took a sip.
“No. But I think I should. She’s supposed to call the police officer that was over at the house today. I think I should tell her before she talks to him.”
“Lily, while you and Danielle have been playing detective…”
“It is mostly Danielle playing detective,” Lily corrected.
“Okay…Danielle then…has she come across anything that might suggest there is something of value hidden in the house?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” Lily frowned.
“If whoever broke into Marlow House was looking for something—what do you think they were looking for? Do you have any idea?”
“Gosh, I don’t know. You were with me when I did the inventory. Can you think of anything that someone might be willing to break in to get?”
“You have the list. Is anything missing?”
“I wanted to go through the inventory, but Danielle thought it was a waste of time. She seemed pretty convinced that nothing was missing.”
“You want me to help you go through it, just in case?” Ian offered.
“Maybe…I don’t know. I’ll talk to Danielle about it in the morning.” They were silent for several minutes, each focusing on the meal and their private thoughts
“So your story has nothing to do with how Marlow died?” Lily asked after she ate her last bite of steak.
“No. I never really doubted Marlow killed himself. I think he had his own demons.” Ian took a sip of his water.
“So you are researching Walt Marlow?”
“You know, now that I bought you a steak and lobster dinner, you owe me.”
“I owe you? Technically you haven’t bought it yet, so maybe I better find out what you expect. I may decide I’m unwilling to ante up. Although, it was rather sneaky of you to trick me into buying such an expensive meal.”
Ian grinned. “I’m a sneaky guy; what can I say?”
“Okay, so what do you expect?”
“If I tell you anything about my project you can’t mention it to anyone, outside of Danielle. And you can only mention it to Danielle if she agrees to keep it between us.”
“Well gee; you didn’t have to buy me an expensive dinner for that. All you have to do is say, Lily, don’t tell anyone, and I won’t.”
“Really? You mean I wasted all this money?” Ian teased. “How about I change what you owe me?”
“Does it involve taking my clothes off?” Lily chuckled.
“Yes, but not all at once.”
“Ha ha…funny.” Lily flashed him a smile.
“Hey, I’m old school. Buy a pretty lady dinner and expect illicit sex.”
“Yes, you are an old fashioned guy!”
“I try.”
“Now, back to the story you’re working on,” Lily said.
“I thought the other conversation was more interesting.” He grinned.
Lily smacked Ian across his arm with her cloth napkin.
“Okay, okay. You don’t have to get violent. I’m working on an article about one of Walt Marlow’s close acquaintances.”
“Who?”
The waitress showed up at the table and silently took their dishes. Ian ordered them both dessert and coffee, and then resumed the conversation when the server was gone.
“When Walt Marlow was a young man, he was very close to Eva Thorndike.”
“Am I supposed to know that name?”
“Only if you’re into silent movies. Her star burned brightly for a couple years, but she died in her early twenties. She came from a very wealthy family.”
“And she was an actress? I thought that was a taboo profession for women back then, especially if she came from money.”
“It was common knowledge that her parents indulged her. From what I’ve discovered, doctors at the time didn’t think she’d make it past her teens. Not sure how different her life might have been if she hadn’t had a congenital medical condition. Maybe then they would have been more prone to pull in the reins, but I guess we’ll never know about that.”
“How does Walt Marlow fit into the picture?”
“Every summer her family would vacation in Frederickport. Eva was about a year older than Walt, and they became very close. From what I’ve learned he fell madly in love with her. Apparently she didn’t return his affection, because she ran off and eloped with another actor. When her health worsened and she was bedridden, her husband abandoned her. It was Walt Marlow who held her hand at the end, not her husband.”
“How sad. So is your story about unrequited love?”
“Not exactly. Although that’s one reason I bought the suicide scenario—his relationship with Eva, and his later relationship with his wife.”
“Danielle seems to think his wife and brother-in-law conspired to kill him.”
“Which supports what I’ve uncovered about Angela and Walt’s relationship, in that she married him for his money—not for love.”
“So what’s your angle?”
Before Ian could answer the question the server returned to the table with the coffee and dessert. Ian adeptly changed the subject and managed to avoid answering Lily’s question.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Danielle wondered if Lily would be out late. Glancing at the clock on her dresser she noted the time. It was a few minutes past 9 p.m. The house was quiet with Lily gone, and it had been hours since she’d seen Walt. Where does he go? She wondered. From what she understood he couldn’t leave the house. He must be somewhere.
Alone in her bedroom, Danielle looked around. Her gaze fixed on the fireplace. Walking to it, she paused a moment before putting out her right hand and caressing the paneling, looking for lose boards. Dropping to her knees, she looked inside the fireplace. She imagined it had been almost 90 years since anyone had built a fire in the brick firebox. Sticking her head inside, she reached up, searching for the flue.
“Looking for something?” Walt asked.
Danielle jumped in surprised, knocking her head against the brick. Crying out in pain she grabbed her forehea
d and climbed out of the fireplace.
“I told you not to sneak up on me like that!” she snapped, still rubbing her injury.
“Sorry, but you looked a little ridiculous.” Walt watched Danielle who now sat on the floor, her back leaning against the wall as she massaged her forehead.
Glaring at Walt, who now sat casually on the edge of her bed, a thought flashed in her mind. “Don’t tell me, you put it under your mattress,” she accused.
“Under the mattress?” Walt glanced down at the bedspread. “If I did, then that would mean it was gone—carried off when they delivered the new beds.”
“Wait a minute…no…when we discussed the new beds you didn’t seem upset about them removing the old ones. So, no I don’t think you put it there.”
“Why would I care if they took it? I’m dead. What am I going to do with it?”
“But you didn’t realize you were dead. Not then.”
“True. You have a point. But I didn’t come here to discuss the necklace.”
“Why did you come here?”
“You never told me what you learned in Astoria this morning.”
“Before we discuss that, I’d like you to first tell me why, if you have no use for the necklace, then why can’t you just tell me where it’s hidden?” She wanted to ask him why he stole it in the first place. In his time Walt Marlow was a rich man. When they initially discussed the theft his “I had my reasons” response made it clear he had no intentions of sharing those reasons with her.
“Do you intend to keep it for yourself or sell it?” Walt asked.
“What? I only want to find it so I don’t have people like Adam breaking in here searching for hidden treasure.” Danielle stopped rubbing her forehead.
“But after you find it, what do you intend to do with it?”
“I suppose give it back to its rightful owner.”
“Are you saying you wouldn’t be tempted to keep it? After all, it’s not like anyone is still alive to claim it.”
“That wouldn’t be right. In fact, I would think you’d want me to find it and return it to its legal owner. Who knows, maybe that’s why you’re trapped here. You need to right a wrong—set things straight—and then move on to the next level.”
“Is that what you think?” Walt looked amused.
“Come on Walt, just tell me where that frickin’ necklace is so I can get it back to its owner.”
“They are all dead now, Danielle. It’s too late.”
“Then it would go to their estate.”
“Can we not discuss this right now? I will consider what you’ve asked. But for now, can you just tell me about your trip to Astoria. I’ve had a very trying day myself, what with those two palookas breaking in here.”
“Which they probably wouldn’t have done if you hadn’t stolen that damn necklace,” Danielle hissed under her breath. She stood up and faced Walt.
“Please, Danielle.”
Danielle studied Walt for a moment without saying anything. Finally she let out a sigh and told him what he wanted to hear.
“Emma Jackson in Astoria was the same Emma Jackson mentioned in the newspaper article. Surprisingly, she was very sharp; I would never have guessed her age. She remembered that night—remembered your brother-in-law coming from Frederickport and breaking down. According to her, she changed her story after she was threatened by a local police officer. Some guy named Hal Tucker.”
“Tucker. He was a fishing buddy of Roger’s.”
“That’s what Emma said. She remembered the two coming into the diner from time to time.”
“I never had a problem with Tucker until I started seeing Angela.”
“Was there ever something between Tucker and Angela?”
“I don’t think so. As far as I ever knew he was just an old fishing buddy of Roger’s. Tucker was from Portland, where Roger lived. I knew Tucker was sweet on Angela, but she never seemed to pay him any notice—at least not that I ever saw.”
“Emma mentioned that—about Tucker being sweet on your wife. I guess Roger used to tease him about it.”
“I wonder if Tucker and Roger were responsible for my death.”
“I suppose the two could have conspired. Although Emma sort of got the impression Tucker just wanted to keep in Roger’s good graces so he could get closer to Angela. Putting her twin brother in jail wouldn’t ingratiate himself with your wife.”
“Do you think any of this will help me?”
“Emma gave me permission to tell her story and promised to verify it. Roger obviously lied about coming from Portland. He had actually come from Frederickport on the day you were killed. From everything I’ve read, I don’t think he realized his sister had been killed. He assumed she would inherit your fortune—and he expected to benefit. I’m not sure everyone will be convinced you didn’t commit suicide, but at least there will be reasonable doubt.”
“I appreciate your effort, Danielle. Sincerely.”
“I’ve one more thing I want to check out.”
“What’s that?”
“Who would have done your autopsy back then? I would assume they would have one, considering the circumstances of your death.”
“Most likely Doc Clemens would have looked me over. That was pretty standard around here.”
“Doc Clemens? Was he the coroner?”
“Doc Clemens was the local doctor—the only one in Frederickport. So what is it exactly you intend to do?”
“I’m going to see if the local police station has any of the old files on your death. Maybe an autopsy report of some kind.”
“How is that going to help?”
“Maybe there’s something in the report—something they missed the first time. I’ll probably have to get someone to look at it, because I won’t really know what to look for.”
“When can you do this?”
“Well, tomorrow is Sunday, and I have some stuff to get ready around here. They’re delivering our new appliances Monday afternoon, and my things arrive on Tuesday. Maybe I can stop over at the police station Monday morning.”
“We need to fix the library window.”
“We? Are you handy with tools?” Danielle chuckled.
“You know what I mean.” Walt paused a moment, hearing something. “I think Lily is home. I just heard the front door open and close.” His suspicion was confirmed when the sound of Lily’s footsteps could be heard coming up the staircase. “Good night Danielle.” Walt disappeared.
“Danielle, you’re still awake,” Lily said when she reached the open doorway.
“I was just getting ready to take a shower. Did you have a nice dinner?”
“I had steak and lobster!” Lily walked into the bedroom and sat down on the small sofa facing Danielle and the fireplace.
“Wow, must be nice. I can’t even think of the last time I had lobster.”
“It was really good. I was going to order the sole, but Ian insisted we both have steak and lobster.”
“Glad you had a nice dinner.”
“He told me a little about what he’s working on. I can tell you, but you have to promise not to say anything to anyone.”
“Who am I going to tell? I hardly know anyone in Frederickport.” Danielle glanced to where Walt had been sitting earlier.
“His article is about an actress, Eva Thorndike. She was a silent picture star. He wouldn’t really give me any details, other than Walt Marlow was in love with her. She broke his heart.”
“Eva Thorndike?” Danielle frowned.
“You’ve heard of her? I never had, but I’m not really into those old movies.”
“Yes…no… I mean I had never heard of her before coming to Frederickport… not until I visited the local museum. They have a portrait of her there. The docent told me about her. She came from a very wealthy family, and they used to spend their summers in Frederickport. The docent never suggested a connection between the actress and Walt. Why does Ian think Walt was in love with her?”
“
He didn’t say exactly.” Lily shrugged. “I guess she married someone else. It was one reason Ian accepted the story of Marlow’s suicide. One woman broke his heart and his wife was a gold digger. But you already suspected the wife was in some way involved in his death.”
“The portrait of Eva Thorndike at the museum was painted by the same artist who painted Walt and Angela Marlow’s portraits.”
“Did the docent tell you that?”
“Umm…no...I noticed the author’s signature,” Danielle lied.
“What did she look like, the actress? Was she beautiful?”
“If the portrait is accurate, very beautiful. Have you ever heard of the Gibson Girl?” Danielle asked.
“Wasn’t that a series of drawings supposed to be based on the ideal woman?”
“Yes, back in the late 1800s, I believe. To me Eva Thorndike looked a lot like the Gibson Girl.”
“I remember what she looked like—the drawing, that is. Very feminine, a bit aloof. In some of the drawings I never could decide if her eyes were supposed to be sad, or if she was just bored.”
“In the portrait Eva’s eyes are a bit like that, but I think they are more sad than bored.” Visualizing the portrait, Danielle remembered the woman’s expression, manner of clothes—her jewelry.
“Oh my god, the Missing Thorndike.” The moment Danielle blurted out the words she covered her mouth with her palm, silencing herself. Glancing around nervously, she didn’t want Walt listening in as they discussed him.
“Missing Thorndike?”
“I…I just remembered something the docent told me. In the painting Eva was wearing a beautiful necklace—emeralds and diamonds. She died very young, and around the time of her death the necklace disappeared. It was never recovered. The docent called the stolen necklace the Missing Thorndike.” Danielle expected Walt to pop in at any moment.
Is that the stolen necklace Marie mentioned? If so, did Walt steal it before Eva died—or after? If he truly loved Eva Thorndike, if she broke his heart as Ian seems to think, is that the reason he refuses to discuss the stolen necklace? Is he perhaps so sentimentally attached to it that he can’t bear to let it go?
