“You didn’t tell me he was hurt when Charlotte died.”
“I’m sorry, Marie. Your father asked me not to. He was afraid you’d come back. And I have to admit I agreed with him. The last time you were around Brandon, things didn’t turn out so well. Be careful, won’t you?”
Marie nodded, but she could tell by Lexie’s expression that her friend wasn’t convinced. “I’m just staying there to see if I can find some kind of evidence my father was murdered.”
“That’s another reason you’re thinking about going to this psychomanteum thing at Sophie Caldwell’s, aren’t you? You want to ask about his death.”
Marie nodded. She’d told Lexie her suspicions the morning before her father’s funeral. Now after hearing what the medical examiner had to say, she felt she was on the right track. If she could learn something from the psychomanteum, anything at all, it would be worth it. “What do you think of the idea?”
Lexie shrugged. “Try it. What’s to lose?”
“Will you come with me?”
Lexie shifted her work boots on the floor. “To hold your hand?” It was meant as a quip, but judging from Lexie’s discomfort, she knew what Marie was about to say next.
“To contact Simon.”
Lexie started shaking her head before the words were out of Marie’s mouth. “Simon died thirteen years ago, Marie. There’s no use trying to relive the past.”
“Why not? Like you said, it might not work, but there’s nothing to lose.”
“There’s nothing to gain, either. Simon’s dead. Let’s just leave it that way.”
Marie nodded. She didn’t want to press her friend. Lexie had gone through enough after Simon had died on that Christmas Eve they had planned to run away together. She’d raised his daughter alone. She’d thrown herself into her family’s business. She’d pulled her life together. The last thing Marie wanted to do was make her feel as though she had to revisit those dark times. “You’re right. You’ve moved on. You’ve done an amazing job with Katie.”
Lexie pressed her lips into a smile. “Thanks. Although you might not agree when you meet her. She’s got a pretty good preteen snit going on these days.”
“I hear her mother and her mother’s friend were pretty good at that preteen snit in their day.”
Lexie smiled. “My mom always told me she hoped I had a daughter like me. Now she reminds me of that regularly.”
At the mention of Lexie’s mom, the tears misted Marie’s eyes. She was all alone now. Now she didn’t even have her dad. “I want to see your parents before I go back to Michigan.”
“They would have your hide if you didn’t.” Lexie laid a hand on Marie’s shoulder. “But now why don’t you go ahead and try to contact your father? I have to deliver these wreaths to a client who lives near the harbor. I’ll drive you to Sophie Caldwell’s place.”
MARIE FOLLOWED SOPHIE up the staircase to the third floor of the old bed-and-breakfast. She’d been chattering nonstop since Marie and Lexie had shown up at the door. Fine with Marie. The more Sophie talked, the less Marie had to. And right now she was so nervous, she doubted she could string three words together that made sense.
“The best way to do this is to spend a day meditating and centering yourself, honey. But nowadays, I know people just don’t seem to have the time.”
Unease fluttered in Marie’s chest. “No. No time.”
“I know you think I’m a little crazy with all this stuff, but you don’t have to believe in ghosts, if you don’t want to. Think of this as meditating. Just relax and open yourself to your deepest thoughts. That’s all you need to do.”
All? Right now she felt as though relaxing was the toughest thing in the world, and she was trying to avoid her deepest thoughts.
“I use breathing exercises. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Count slowly while you’re doing it. It calms me.” Sophie reached the hallway at the top of the steps and spun to face Marie. She breathed in and out, moving her arms with each breath as if conducting an orchestra. She kept it up until Marie joined in. “That’s it, sweetheart. In and out. In and out. Starting to feel better?”
“Strangely enough, I am.”
“Good. Now follow me.” Sophie pushed through a door and led Marie into a darkened room. She flicked a light switch.
Even with the overhead light blazing, the room still felt dark. Black-curtained walls, black ceiling and dark carpet made the space feel smaller than it probably was. Marie eyed the single chair positioned in the room’s center. It faced a large gold-framed mirror. “That’s the oracle.”
“That’s right.”
Even though she knew the mirror was merely silvered glass, it felt deeper, as if it were calling to her, drawing her in.
She pulled her gaze away and scanned the rest of the items in the space. Antique chests and small tables dotted the carpet, the surface of each one covered with equally antique candelabra holding tapers and other holders cradling fat column candles.
“You built this place?”
“With the help of my handyman, Phil. Phil Cardon. I’m determined, but not exactly strong. Not physically strong, anyway.” She pulled a long lighter from one of the tables and bustling around the room, she lit the candles. Once she’d finished, she snapped off the overhead switch. A gentle, flickering light filled the room. “I made my own candles, too. Sometimes scent is part of the experience we get from the other side. Perfumed candles can mask that. So all these are one hundred percent fragrance free.”
Marie thought of the jasmine she’d smelled in Drake House. Maybe she was right to think of ghosts when she’d experienced that scent. Not that Brandon would agree.
Pressure assaulted her chest at the thought of him.
She pressed her hand against her breastbone and looked into the mirror. Her emotions were so jumbled where Brandon was concerned. That was part of why she was here. The part Lexie had guessed.
Her father loved Brandon like a son, yet he’d warned Marie about him ten years ago. About his need to be in control of his emotions. About his choice to marry Charlotte. Marie’s father had helped her break her ties with Brandon and start a new life. She needed him to help her sort through her feelings now. “I sit in the chair, right?”
“That’s right, dear. Look into the mirror and relax. Use those breathing exercises.”
“How long will it take?”
“There’s no telling. Sometimes communication happens right away. Sometimes it can take hours to open yourself up enough.”
Marie lowered herself into the chair. Hours. She couldn’t see herself staring into a mirror for hours. She didn’t even like looking at her face for the five minutes it took to put on makeup in the morning. “I hope it’s faster than that.”
“You have to be patient.” She could hear Sophie rustle toward the door behind her. “Concentrate on your father. How much you love him. How much you miss him.” The woman’s voice faltered. Clearly she was talking about her own feelings as much as Marie’s.
Before Marie could turn around, the door closed, and she could hear Sophie’s footsteps receding down the stairs.
Marie turned back to the mirror and looked into her own eyes. Tears sparkled at their corners in the candlelight. She did love her father. She did miss him. She ached at the prospect that she’d never again see his smile.
She scrutinized her own smile in the mirror. She wasn’t ugly, but she was a far cry from the glamorous Charlotte. She didn’t need a picture to remember Charlotte’s wavy blond hair and flawless skin, her vibrant laugh, her sparkling, intelligent eyes. That was the woman Brandon had chosen. And that was the image she should keep in her mind, especially after what had happened today.
Or almost happened.
She let her eyes stare and become unfocused. Relax. That was what Sophie had said. Drift. Her image blurred, obscured by clouds of light and dark. This was better. At least now she didn’t have to stare at herself, compare herself to Charlotte. She could just drift…open h
erself…love her father….
At first she didn’t identify the scent. Exotic. Slightly spicy. Pleasant.
She pulled in a deep breath. It was that jasmine blend, all right. The same scent she had followed through the halls of Drake House. Charlotte’s scent. She breathed in again, but the scent was gone.
She shifted in the chair.
“Marie.” The voice was light as air.
Had Sophie returned? Marie twisted to look behind her.
The door was closed, the room empty.
“Murder.” The voice again. The same one she’d heard in the radio static. Or was it?
A tremor seized Marie’s chest.
“Murder.”
There it was again, faint, indistinct. Marie could swear the sound was coming from the mirror, yet it was all over the room at the same time. “Daddy?” Even as she called out, she knew the whisper wasn’t his. She stared at the center of the gold frame, waiting to see something, anything. But only her own reflection stared back. Candlelight danced behind her. “Who’s there?”
The scent tickled her senses again. Jasmine.
“Charlotte? Is that you?”
The scent grew stronger.
This was crazy. It couldn’t be happening. She must have fallen asleep in her chair. She must be dreaming.
Cold moved over her. Penetrating deep like the first cut of a blade. She gripped her legs and dug fingertips into the muscles of her thighs. “Charlotte? If it’s you, answer.”
“Marie.” The voice hissed like a steam radiator. The scent grew overpowering.
Marie forced herself to stay in the chair, though every cell in her body clamored to run. “Charlotte? What is it? Why are you communicating with me?”
“Love.” The hiss trailed off, but the word was clear.
Charlotte loved her? She found that impossible to believe. “You love Brandon. That’s why you’re speaking to me?”
“Love.”
“Are you trying to warn me away from Brandon? Is that it? Are you staking your claim to him even from the grave?” Marie’s inside shook. With fear, with anger, she wasn’t sure which. She was getting tired of playing this guessing game. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now. “Out with it, Charlotte. What are you trying to say?”
The cold deepened. The tremor inside her grew until her whole body shook.
The hiss came again, barely loud enough to hear. “All Brandon loves will die.”
Chapter Seven
Marie was still shaking when she arrived at the Jenkins Cove Police Station, only a few blocks from the B&B. After she heard the voice, she’d panicked, bolting out of the attic room. She’d escaped from the House of the Seven Gables without explaining to Sophie anything of what she’d experienced. What was she going to say? That Charlotte’s ghost had spoken to her? That Charlotte said she was murdered? That the entity had suggested Brandon was responsible?
All Brandon loves will die.
Charlotte’s ghost hadn’t come out and said Brandon was responsible, only that those he loved would die. But what did that mean? That Charlotte’s ghost would kill anyone Brandon loved? Was she warning Marie away?
Marie gathered her wool coat tight at the neck with one hand and clutched her bag against her side with the other. She didn’t know what to believe. Heck, she didn’t even know what she’d just experienced. But one thing was clear. She needed to know more about Charlotte’s death. And save asking Brandon, the only place she could think to get that kind of information was the Jenkins Cove Police Station.
She set her jaw and mounted the steps of the remodeled old house that served as home to the police department. She wasn’t sure how she was going to explain her questions to Chief Hammer. He’d probably think she was some kind of paranoid conspiracy nut, seeing a murder behind every accident.
She’d be happy if paranoia was all it was.
She stepped into the entry. Still sporting its original hardwood floors, the station looked very little like a house on the inside. Instead of a foyer, a high desk squatted about ten feet from the door, making it impossible to get into the rest of the station without being seen. A heavy woman wearing a trim polo shirt emblazoned with the Jenkins Cove PD seal looked up from the bank of three computer screens surrounding her. “Can I help you?”
“I was wondering if I could talk to someone about an accident investigation.”
“Miss Leonard.” Chief Hammer’s voice vibrated off the hardwood floors. He poked his head around a corner and gave her an insincere smile. “Are you still investigating your father’s death?”
She couldn’t help note his patronizing tone. “Yes, I’m still looking for answers. But that’s not why I’m here this afternoon. I was wondering if you could answer some questions I have about another matter.”
Chief Hammer looked relieved. He actually gave her a friendly smile. “Come on in, then. We’re pretty shorthanded around here, but I’ll see what I can do.”
He led her into a surprisingly large office just around the corner from the dispatcher. “Have a seat.”
Marie sat, though she’d rather stand. At least she remembered her manners this time. No reason to get the chief defensive about her refusing his offer of a chair before their chat even began. “I was wondering if you could fill me in on another accident that took place at Drake House in the past year.”
His relieved look melted like an early snow. “Charlotte Drake.”
“Yes.”
He groaned and shook his head. “A horrible, tragic accident. But I’m not sure what you expect from me. If you want to know more about Mrs. Drake’s accident, why don’t you ask Brandon Drake himself? I hear you’re staying out at Drake House.”
It seemed the entire town knew she was staying at Drake House. Of course, Chief Hammer had learned of it from last night’s break-in, not Shelley’s gossip. “Brandon is still grieving. I don’t want to upset him if I can help it.” At least that was the truth.
“Of course.” The chief leaned back in his desk chair and tented his fingers. “I’ll do my best to answer, within reason. What do you want to know?”
“What happened that night?”
“Charlotte, er, Mrs. Drake was drinking. Late in the evening she got into her car. She lost control, and her car collided with a stone wall on the property. The gas tank ruptured, and the fuel ignited.”
“And Brandon?”
“Oh yes. Brandon was badly burned trying to pull her out of the fire.”
Marie loosened her grip on her coat. She set her bag in the chair beside her. Brandon had risked his life to save Charlotte. So he couldn’t have been responsible, could he?
Murder.
The word popped into Marie’s mind, carried on a whisper as it had been in the psychomanteum and on the radio. If not Brandon, could someone else have killed Charlotte? “Was there any evidence of foul play?”
There was the expression she knew was coming. The expression that said Chief Hammer thought she was out of her ever-loving mind. “You’re kidding, right?” He glanced around his office as if Marie were setting him up, and he was searching for the camera that must be recording the joke.
“No. I’m not kidding. I’m asking. Was there any chance Charlotte’s death wasn’t completely accidental?”
His gaze finally landed back on her. “It was an accident, Miss Leonard. Just like your father’s death was an accident. Neither of them was murdered.”
“I can understand why it seems far-fetched for Drake House to see two unrelated murders in the span of six months, Chief. But two accidents in that time span seems odd, too.” She paused, weighing her words, careful not to offend Chief Hammer. “What if my father found out something about Charlotte’s death? What if he was murdered to keep him quiet?”
A bushy brow crooked toward his nonexistent hairline. “Are you sure you’re not some kind of murder-mystery writer?”
“I’m serious, Chief.”
“I’m serious, too, Miss Leonard. I don’t know what yo
u’re after here, but this is ridiculous. And it’s starting to get on my nerves. We’re very busy around here with real life. I don’t need to spend any more of my time on your silly theories.”
Obviously she had no talent for diplomacy. “Really, if you hear me—”
“I’m done here, Miss Leonard.” Hammer rose to his full modest height. “If there’s anything rational that we can do for you here at the police department, let us know.”
“Would it be possible for me to see Charlotte Drake’s accident report?”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“I need to understand what happened.”
Hammer puffed out his bulldog cheeks. He didn’t move.
“Accident reports are public record, aren’t they?”
With a grunt, he thrust himself from his chair and stalked to the office door. “I’ll get them for you. It might take a while. Half my staff is assisting the state police.” He closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in the office.
Time ticked by, and Hammer didn’t return. Finally Marie left the office to find out what had happened to the chief and his promise. Rounding the corner, she stepped into the dispatch area.
The last person she expected to see was Brandon. But there he was, powerfully sexy in his black leather coat, taking a sheaf of papers from the chief himself. “Hello, Marie.”
“CHIEF HAMMER CALLED you, didn’t he?” Marie stopped stock-still on the police station’s front porch and stared a hole through Brandon.
Brandon’s gut ached. “What does it matter? You needed a ride back to Drake House, anyway.” He looked out across the street where his car idled, Josef waiting patiently for them. Clouds hung low and ominous in the sky. The air smelled like coming rain.
“You could have waited until I called. You could have sent the car. Why did he call you? Because I was asking too many questions?”
“Because you were forcing him to work too hard, I think.”
Marie and he had found common ground when he’d mentioned Hammer’s laziness last night. Now her expression darkened and she clamped her jaw tight. “What did he say to you? Be honest.”
Christmas Awakening Page 6
