The Ghost and the Mystery Writer

by Anna J. McIntyre

  Danielle let out another sigh and settled back in the chair, waiting. Waiting for what, she had no idea. Finally, the chief looked up and motioned for her to come and look at his computer monitor. Leaving her purse sitting on the floor, she stood up and walked around his desk, standing next to him. She looked at the computer monitor. He had six windows open. Each window displayed a different bottle of wine.

  “I had no idea there were so many wine labels with chateaus,” Danielle said.

  “Neither did I. Do you recognize the one Adam took over to Chris’s house?”

  Danielle pointed to a red and gold label. “That one.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Positive.”

  “That’s the label on the bottle that killed Jolene,” the chief said.

  “What was the point of me picking it out? Why didn’t you just show me the bottle you have? I could have told you if I thought it was the same one or not. You had to have a bottle lineup?”

  The chief turned off his monitor and stood up. “Before we go over to the Gusarov Estate, I want to know the bottle he claims to have taken over there matches the bottle we found on the beach. If you can identify it now—before seeing the bottle we found—it will be more difficult for someone to argue you were swayed in your testimony.”

  “Even if the wine is still at Chris’s, which it probably is, I’d still think Chris’s bottle would help prove Adam probably touched that murder weapon before the killer.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Whoever killed Jolene probably did it in a fit of anger and happened across that bottle. If it was premeditated, I’d assume they wouldn’t choose a weapon that might break or not finish the job.”

  “What’s your point, Danielle?”

  “Adam probably bought that wine for Chris because it was one he liked, a brand he’d bought before. Maybe even handled other bottles at the store, which would have left his fingerprints on the eventual murder weapon.”

  “Adam said that was the first and only time he had bought that type of wine. Even claimed it was the only bottle like that he had ever touched.”

  “Maybe he forgot,” Danielle suggested.

  “I don’t think Adam would forget buying a three-hundred-dollar bottle of wine.”

  “Adam spent three hundred bucks on that wine?” Danielle asked incredulously.

  “I’m not sure exactly what he spent, but that was the price I found online.”

  “Wow, I guess Adam really does want to keep Chris as a client. I suppose I should have told Adam Chris is perfectly happy with Two-Buck Chuck.”

  “I think it may be about three bucks now.”

  Danielle grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “Yeah, but still. For that much money, he could have gotten Chris eight cases of wine as a thank you gift. That would have gotten Chris’s attention.”

  MacDonald opened the door for Danielle. “For a rich girl, you sure are cheap.”

  “The term is frugal. If I was cheap, I’d have a much more interesting social life.”

  “Did you really spend three hundred bucks on that wine?” Danielle asked Adam as they sat in the backseat of the squad car on their way to the Gusarov Estate. Brian drove the car while Joe sat in the passenger seat.

  Before he could answer, Joe asked, “Do you need to stop at Marlow House and pick up the keys?”

  “No. I have them in my purse.” She turned her attention back to Adam, waiting for his answer.

  “Hey, it was a good commission. I couldn’t be cheap,” he said with a shrug.

  “Knowing Chris, he would have been thrilled with a couple cases of beer,” Danielle told him.

  “The man is a billionaire,” Adam countered.

  “And billionaires don’t like beer?”

  “It doesn’t matter now. If my fingerprint really was on that bottle they have, that means someone has broken into the Gusarov Estate and took the wine.”

  “Under normal circumstances, I’d want you to be wrong,” Danielle confessed.

  “That’s the only explanation.” Adam stared out the side window. “Someone broke into the Gusarov Estate.”

  “You know, we’re going to have to stop calling it the Gusarov Estate. It isn’t anymore.” Danielle reminded him. A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of the property.

  When Danielle started to slip the house key into the lock, Adam looked at Brian and asked, “Shouldn’t one of you be doing this? If someone broke into the house, they could still be in there.”

  Danielle paused and looked over at Brian and Joe.

  “I seriously doubt that,” Brian said. “If they stole the wine, they obviously took it down to the beach to drink. It was probably teenagers. I doubt they returned.”

  “Great,” Adam grumbled. “When I was a teenager, I drank Boone’s Farm wine. I just hope whoever stole it enjoyed it!”

  “If it was stolen,” Joe said, taking the key from Danielle and opening the door. He walked in the house first and looked around. With the sunlight streaming in through the high windows, it wasn’t necessary to turn on the overhead lights.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Adam snapped. He and Danielle followed Joe and Brian into the house. “You seriously think I killed Jolene?”

  “Where did you put the wine?” Brian asked.

  Danielle motioned to the living room. “He set it on the mantel.”

  The four walked into the living room. Adam’s eyes fixed on the fireplace mantel first. He pointed across the room to where he had placed the bottle of wine. “See, it’s gone!” They looked to the fireplace. The only thing sitting on the mantel was an envelope containing the thank you card Adam had left with the wine.

  If Brian hadn’t noticed motion out of the corner of his eye, the man sneaking out of the house might have gone unnoticed. Without pause, Brian turned back toward the front door and let out a shout. He took off in pursuit. Joe didn’t wait for an invitation. He raced past Adam and Danielle and out the front door, behind Brian and the intruder.

  Together, Adam and Danielle stood at the front window, looking outside, watching Brian and Joe chase the man down the front walk to the street.

  “Damn, Brian can run for an old guy,” Adam said in awe.

  Still watching the chase, Danielle nodded. “I’m impressed. That other guy is pretty fast too. I wonder who he is.”

  “Probably the one who drank my wine. Jerk.”

  The three were now halfway down the street, but Brian was getting closer, with Joe on his heels.

  Still watching the pursuit through the window, Danielle said, “Next time, buy Chris some cases of beer. Buy aluminum cans. Harder to kill someone with.”

  Adam rolled his eyes. “Funny, Danielle.”

  “You think they’ll shoot him?” she asked.

  “If he doesn’t stop running, maybe.”

  In the next moment, Brian reached the man, slamming him to the ground.

  Adam winced. “Ouch. That looks like it hurts.”

  Adam and Danielle sat with the chief in his office, waiting for some answers. After apprehending the intruder, they had gone through the rooms at the estate and had discovered the man had broken in through a back window and had been camping out in one of the rooms.

  “He’s not from around here,” the chief explained. “If he’s ever been arrested, he’s not in our system. But his fingerprints match the other prints we found on the bottle that killed Jolene.”

  “Did he kill her?” Adam asked.

  The chief shook his head. “The man claims to have spent last night in the ER. I called the hospital; they confirm he checked in last night around ten, before Jolene arrived at Pier Café, and didn’t get out of there until this morning, after Heather found the body. He admitted to taking the bottle of wine down by the pier and drinking it. Left the empty.”

  “So he’s a litterbug and a thief,” Danielle said.

  “He’s also homeless. Lost his job; doesn’t appear to have any family,”
MacDonald explained.

  “What now?” Danielle asked.

  “Now Adam can go home.”

  Danielle and Adam stood up.

  “And, Danielle,” the chief called out.

  Danielle turned briefly to him. “Yes?”

  “Tell Marie hello for me.”

  “What was that about?” Adam asked when they were out in the parking lot.

  “Your grandma sent me over here to check on you. I think the chief figured that out.”

  “She did?”

  “One of her informants told her you’d been arrested. She was pretty upset; you should probably stop by her house on the way home and let her know what’s going on.”

  “I wasn’t really arrested. They asked me to come in for questioning.” Adam opened his car door.

  “If you hadn’t come up with an explanation for that fingerprint, you would have been arrested.”

  Adam got into the driver’s seat of his car, slipped his key in the ignition, turned the key, rolled the window down, and closed the door.

  Danielle leaned against the car door, looked in the window, and watched as Adam hooked his seatbelt. “Who do you think killed Jolene?”

  “I thought the cops figured it was a robbery gone bad? I understand questioning me because of the fingerprint, but are they really looking for someone who was out to get Jolene?”

  “She wasn’t killed because of the rings,” Danielle whispered.

  Adam looked out the window at Danielle. “How do you know?”

  “I just do. The cops are looking for someone who had a grudge against Jolene.”

  “Well, I didn’t kill her. And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t use a wine bottle that could be traced to me—and leave my fingerprints behind!”

  “What’s this about you and Jolene’s daughter?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “After your grandma heard—or thought—you were arrested, she said they might pin it on you because of what went on between you and Jolene’s daughter.”

  “That’s old news. Has nothing to do with Jolene’s death. I can’t even imagine why Grandma would bring it up.” He sounded annoyed.

  “Your grandma loves you. She just worries about you.”

  With his hands firmly on the steering wheel, Adam revved his engine. He glanced up into the rearview mirror. “I have to go now.”

  “So you aren’t going to tell me?”

  “Tell you what?” He revved his engine again.

  “About you and Melony? That’s her name, isn’t it?”

  “None of your business, Danielle,” he said impatiently, glancing back up into the mirror.

  “Okay.” Danielle stepped back from the car. “But you know, she’s probably going to be coming to Frederickport this week. Melony, that is.”

  Adam briefly glanced to Danielle and then gunned his engine. In the next moment, he backed out of the parking space and raced from the police department parking lot, without stopping for the stop sign on the corner.

  Somewhat startled, Danielle watched as Adam’s car disappeared down the street. “I really shouldn’t have gone all Lily on him. But there’s a story here.”

  Chapter Eight

  When Danielle finally returned home that afternoon, she noticed Joanne’s car wasn’t parked in front of Marlow House, but Hillary’s was. She glanced over to Ian’s house before turning into her drive and noticed Ian’s vacant driveway. Lily and Ian aren’t back from Portland.

  It suddenly dawned on Danielle that she had been so busy all day, she hadn’t called or texted Lily. Since she hadn’t heard from Lily, she had to assume her roommate didn’t know about the murder, which she found peculiar considering Ian’s sister, Kelly, was dating Sergeant Morelli. She would have assumed Joe had already filled Kelly in on all the details, which Kelly would then relay to her brother.

  Sadie greeted Danielle the moment she entered the kitchen, with a wet nose eagerly sniffing and a wagging tail. Hillary Hemmingway sat at the kitchen table, eating a sandwich, while Walt lounged against the kitchen counter, his arms folded across his chest.

  “Where have you been all day?” Walt asked the question in spite of the fact Danielle couldn’t directly answer it—not with her guest sitting in the kitchen.

  Hillary set her sandwich on her plate and smiled up at Danielle. “You just missed Joanne. She left about ten minutes ago.”

  “It’s been a crazy day.” Danielle tossed her purse on the kitchen counter and grabbed a glass from the overhead cabinet. “Did you hear about the murder?” She filled her glass with water and then turned to face the older woman.

  “Oh yes. One of Joanne’s friends called her, told her someone was mugged on the beach last night. Have you heard if they’ve caught him yet?”

  Danielle took a seat at the table. “Unfortunately, no.”

  “I hope you have more information. Joanne didn’t tell us anything. Or should I say, she didn’t tell Hillary much,” Walt said.

  “I must say, it was comforting having Sadie here. What with a killer on the loose. I kept all the doors locked while you were gone,” Hillary explained.

  “Who was murdered?” Walt asked. “Were you off helping the chief? Is that where you’ve been all day?”

  “I don’t think we’re in any danger, but it’s always good to keep the doors locked,” Danielle said. “I knew the woman who was killed—Jolene Carmichael.” Danielle glanced up to Walt; their eyes met.

  “I’m sorry, was she a good friend of yours?” Hillary asked.

  Danielle sipped her water and then said, “No. She was more an acquaintance than a friend. In fact, I only just met her a short while ago.”

  “You loathed the woman,” Walt smirked.

  Ignoring Walt’s comment, Danielle said, “I met her through the historical society. She was a board member. I think I’ve mentioned her before. She was the one who found the gold coins at Ian’s house.”

  Abandoning the partially eaten sandwich on her plate, Hillary looked over at Danielle with keen interest. “She was the one who thought she should be able to keep them, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s what she thought. But now the poor woman is dead.”

  “Do you know the details?” Hillary asked.

  Danielle shrugged. “Not really. Probably no more than what Joanne told you.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Walt scoffed.

  “So what did you do today?” Danielle asked.

  “My muse finally spoke to me!” Hillary said brightly.

  “You started your book?”

  “Oh yes. I’ve been writing all day. It’s so exhilarating. Nothing like it; when a story grabs me, I can do nothing but write.”

  “She’s not kidding,” Walt said. “She was still up when I went to the attic last night after midnight, and this morning, when I came back downstairs, I could hear her clicking away on a typewriter. I thought you told me people don’t use typewriters anymore?”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you, I noticed the typewriter in your room. Don’t you write on a computer?” Danielle asked.

  “I don’t like writing on a computer,” Hillary told her. “Stifles my creativity. Mr. Royal has been my loyal assistant for over fifty years.”

  Danielle frowned. “Mr. Royal?”

  “My Royal typewriter. It belonged to my father.”

  “I didn’t realize you could still buy typewriter ribbon,” Danielle muttered.

  “Certainly.”

  “I saw her typewriter,” Walt told Danielle. “It isn’t even an electric one.”

  “Can you tell me what your story’s about?” Danielle asked.

  Hillary’s thin pale lips crinkled as she broke into a sly smile. “I never talk about my story during the early stage. It’s bad luck. But I must say, I feel good about this one. I knew coming to Marlow House was the right thing for me.”

  “How do you mean?” Danielle asked.

  “I’ve been experiencing such a bad case of writer’s block. So
mething told me coming here would prime my creative pump and it has! When I returned from my walk last night, I felt exhilarated! I just knew my dry spell was over!”

  “I’m happy for you.” Danielle smiled.

  Hillary stood up and carried her plate to the sink. “If you’ll excuse me, Danielle. I need to get back to work. I’ll keep my door closed, but if my typing bothers you, please let me know. I could always come downstairs and write.”

  “No, your typing doesn’t bother me. I’ve never even heard it.”

  “Wonderful.” Hillary started to rinse her plate off, but Danielle told her to leave it, she would take care of it. Grateful, Hillary flashed Danielle a smile, set the plate in the sink, and hurried from the kitchen.

  “How can you not hear the typing? I could hear it up in the attic,” Walt asked.

  Danielle went to the sink and finished rinsing Hillary’s plate before placing it in the dishwasher. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just a heavy sleeper.”

  Walt watched Danielle for a moment as she wiped down the counter with a paper towel. Finally, he asked, “So there’s a killer on the loose in Frederickport?”

  “Afraid so.” Danielle tossed the paper towel into the trash can and turned to face Walt.

  “Perhaps whoever killed Jolene has already left town. No reason to stick around and risk getting arrested.”

  “The chief seems to feel it wasn’t a mugging—that the killer targeted Jolene specifically.”

  “From what I heard Joanne tell your guest, Jolene was robbed.”

  “Maybe she was robbed, but that’s not why she was killed. Whoever killed her wanted her dead.”

  “Are you a suspect?” Walt asked.

  “Me?” Danielle frowned. “Why would I be a suspect? I barely knew the woman!”

  Walt laughed. “I know you didn’t kill her. I just wondered if you were a suspect since it was no secret you disliked the woman. And you seem to be the favorite suspect when someone gets killed in Frederickport.”

  “It was more that she didn’t like me. But no, I’m not a suspect. But Adam was for a while this afternoon—which is one reason I was late getting home.”

  Before Danielle could elaborate, her cellphone began to ring. She slipped it out of her back pocket. It was Lily.