The Ghost and the Mystery Writer

by Anna J. McIntyre

  Lily stood up. “So we’re going to do this?”

  Danielle groaned again and reluctantly stood. “I suppose so. You think we have any rubber gloves around here?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Walt Marlow, Danielle Boatman, Lily Miller, Ian Bartley, Chris Glandon aka Chris Johnson, Heather Donovan, and Pete Rogers all had one thing in common. They resided on Beach Drive in Frederickport, Oregon. Beach Drive had no streetlights. A few of the houses on the street had installed their own security lighting, which helped illuminate the area on a moonless night.

  Every Thursday evening the residents of Beach Drive dragged their trash cans to the curb in preparation for Friday morning’s trash pickup. Those who forgot to remove their trash can lids before taking them to the curb the night before often discovered in the morning that the lids had rolled down the street, been run over by a vehicle and flattened, or sometimes they simply vanished.

  Each week Joanne hauled lidless trash cans to the curb in front of Marlow House. While this saved Danielle from having to buy new trash can lids, the exposed trash was occasionally pilfered by roaming animals, resulting in garbage strewn along the street. At one time, Max had been a dumpster-diving feline, yet he had changed his way since moving into Marlow House and getting regularly fed.

  Danielle stood by her trash cans, fidgeting with the flashlight she had brought with her. It had worked when she had left the house, yet died a few minutes after coming outside. Fortunately, there was a full moon overhead, and she wasn’t standing in total darkness. She waited for Lily, who was inside tracking down rubber gloves and another flashlight.

  The brief flickering light from the sidewalk in front of Marlow House caught Walt’s attention. When he stepped to the attic window and looked outside, the light was gone, but he could see a shadow standing not far from the gate.

  “Is that Danielle out there?” Walt asked.

  Max, who had been inspecting the attic’s perimeter for possible rodent infestation, paused and looked over at Walt. Curious, he meowed and then leapt onto the windowsill. With his tail swishing, he looked outside.

  Danielle didn’t see Lily coming, but she could hear the approach by the crunching sound of Lily’s shoes making their way across the yard.

  “Here, put these on,” Lily ordered as she handed Danielle two large plastic storage bags.

  “Put these on where?” Danielle asked, reluctantly taking the bags from Lily while holding her nonfunctioning flashlight in the other hand. She looked at the bags.

  “On your hands, of course,” Lily told her as she shook out a large empty trash bag she had also been carrying.

  “You expect me to use these as gloves?” Danielle asked, dropping the flashlight to the ground.

  “I suppose you don’t have to if you don’t mind going through the trash barehanded.”

  “I thought you were going to get some gloves?”

  “I couldn’t find any. But those should work.” Lily gave the trash bag she was holding another shake, clutching it by its opening, waiting for Danielle to fill it. “I figure you can empty the trash from the can and put it in here. Hopefully, Hillary’s notes aren’t at the very bottom.”

  “If they’re even in here.”

  “I bet they are,” Lily said.

  “We should have had Walt just keep an eye on the notes and then tell us when she tossed them,” Danielle said with a groan.

  “Great, now you think of that!”

  “Why do I have to do it?” Danielle asked, begrudgingly slipping the gallon-sized storage bags on her hands.

  “They’re your trash cans.”

  “But it was your idea,” Danielle reminded her.

  “Hey, if I came up with the idea, you can do your share and sort through the trash.”

  Digging into the can and awkwardly pulling out garbage with her now covered hands, she said, “You know, I’m rich. I shouldn’t have to do stuff like this. I should be able to pay someone to dig through my trash.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Lily said as she watched Danielle dump a handful of garbage into her bag. “Where’s your flashlight?”

  “I thought you were going to bring one?” Danielle asked, taking another handful.

  “I couldn’t find one. Where’s yours?” Lily glanced around, but it was difficult to see what was on the ground.

  “It doesn’t work. But I think we have enough moonlight. I should be able to tell when…if…I get to Hillary’s notes.”

  Sadie stood at the living room window and started barking.

  “What is it, girl?” Ian asked, stepping from the kitchen into the dark living room. Without turning on the overhead light, he walked across the dark room and looked out the window. He could see the silhouettes of two people in front of Marlow House. They were doing something—what exactly, he couldn’t tell.

  Ian pulled out his cellphone and dialed Lily. There was no answer. Then he dialed Danielle. Still no answer. Glancing to the windows of Marlow House, he could see the lights were all off.

  “Sadie, it looks like someone is trying to break into the side gate at Marlow House, and I think they’re all in bed over there.”

  Without hesitation, Ian dialed the Frederickport Police Department.

  “Why don’t you see what those two are up to,” Walt told Max. The cat didn’t move, but continued to stare out the window.

  “Come on, Max, be a sport. I want to know what they’re doing out there.”

  Max meowed, jumped off the windowsill, and headed for the door.

  Under the first heap of garbage Danielle removed from the can, she found a number of smaller trash bags, each stuffed full and shoved tightly into the can. One by one, she pulled out a bag and ripped it open, transporting its contents to the bag Lily held.

  “Oh dang, this stinks,” Danielle groaned as she leaned into the can, trying to retrieve the last bag. As she did, it tore apart, scattering its contents on the bottom of the can and forcing Danielle to reach down into its depths.

  It was impossible for Danielle to grab hold of whatever remained on the bottom of the can, so she slipped the bags off her hands and gingerly touched whatever it was with her fingertips.

  “It’s sheets of paper!” Danielle said excitedly.

  Lily had been just about to suggest picking up the almost empty can and dumping its remaining contents into the bag she held, instead of practically climbing in, but she withheld comment, believing they might have found what they were looking for, and Danielle almost had it in her grasp.

  What neither Lily or Danielle noticed was Max slinking out from the side yard after exiting Marlow House via the pet door in the kitchen. The black cat focused his attention on the trash cans, wondering what tasty treats they held. Danielle and Lily also did not notice the vehicle driving down their street, which had turned its headlights off and approached slowly.

  Just as Danielle took hold of a piece of paper on the bottom of the can, Max leapt into the receptacle, landing soundly on Danielle’s back. She let out a scream and jumped up, tipping over the can, sending Max charging off under Lily’s feet—which in turn frightened Lily, who took off in a run in the opposite direction.

  Joe Morelli watched the shadowy pair as his squad car moved slowly down Beach Drive. He was about ten feet from the drive into Marlow House when one of them took off in a run, charging away from him. He immediately turned on his headlights and siren.

  Lily couldn’t stop laughing. She found the entire situation hilarious. Danielle was not as amused. During her flight, Lily had dropped the garbage bag she had been holding, scattering its contents on the sidewalk before Danielle landed on her backside in the sludge. Joe offered her a hand to get up, but when Danielle realized her right hand was now covered in three-day-old bacon grease, she declined his offer and managed to stumble to her feet without his assistance.

  By the time Ian made it across the street, Danielle had wiped her hands off on the sides of her jeans and gathered up what she could find of the yello
w sheets of legal-size paper—each covered with Hillary’s scribbly handwriting. The headlights from Joe’s car continued to light the area, making it easier for Danielle to see what she was doing.

  “You obviously lost something,” Ian said when he saw the mess.

  Danielle protectively held the stack of papers to her chest, unwilling to let either Joe or Ian catch a glimpse of what she held. “I accidentally threw out some important paperwork,” she lied.

  Feeling sorry for Danielle, Lily quickly scooped up the trash, shoving it back into the now empty can. Soon Ian and Joe were helping until all the trash was back in the container.

  “Are you done dumpster diving?” Joe asked with a chuckle. They glanced to the second can.

  “I think so,” Danielle said, still clutching the papers to her chest. “I found the sack they were in, so I don’t imagine there’s any more of the papers I was looking for in the other can.”

  “Why did you run off?” Joe asked Lily.

  “I’m not sure.” Lily laughed. “Dani screamed, and then something ran through my legs. Scared the crap outa me. I think it was a raccoon or something.”

  “I think it was Max,” Danielle said as she spied her black cat sitting by the fence, watching.

  “I’m dying to see if you got what we need,” Lily told Danielle as they approached the back door.

  The light in the kitchen flashed on. Danielle froze. They could see Hillary inside through the window.

  “I can’t let her see these,” Danielle said as she hastily tucked the bundle under her shirt.

  “You look like you were just in a mud wrestling match—and lost.”

  “Thanks, Lily. This was your idea, may I remind you.”

  “And maybe it worked.”

  “I need to take a shower first. I feel gross.”

  “I tell you what, when we go in there, just run to the bathroom; I’ll tell Hillary you accidentally threw out some paperwork—which is the same story you told Ian and Joe—and that we had to look in the trash, and you got crud on you, and you had to take a shower because you feel so gross. Pretend like you’re holding something.”

  “All true—except for the paperwork part. And I am holding something; it’s just under my shirt.”

  A few minutes later, Danielle managed to race by Hillary, shouting something about feeling gross and needing to jump in the shower.

  Lily stayed behind in the kitchen to wash her hands and tell Hillary what they had been doing outside, skipping over the part about them snooping for any notes she might have thrown out.

  Just as Danielle reached the stairway, she met Walt, who was coming down from the attic. “I think we found Hillary’s notes you read. I’ll explain later! I need a shower!” Not waiting for Walt’s response, Danielle continued on her way.

  Walt was about to call out a question when he noticed Max trailing behind Danielle. He looked down at the cat and asked, “What’s going on, Max?”

  Danielle took a quick shower, and by the time Lily made it back upstairs, she found Danielle’s bedroom door closed. Walking to the door, she knocked softly. A moment later it opened.

  “Where’s Hillary?” Danielle whispered, peeking out into the hallway.

  “She’s watching television in the living room. I think Walt’s watching with her.”

  “Why do you say that?” Danielle opened the door wider, let Lily in, and then shut and locked it after her.

  “I could smell his cigar,” Lily explained.

  “I’ve been straightening out the pages over here.” Danielle pointed to the dresser, where a stack of crinkled legal-sized paper sat.

  “You don’t think we should have gone through the other can?” Lily asked.

  “I don’t think Joanne would have dumped the trash from Hillary’s room in more than one bag. I suppose we could always look at the other one if we don’t find anything.”

  “I don’t want to go back out there,” Lily groaned.

  Danielle laughed. “You don’t?”

  Danielle divided the stack and gave Lily half. They both started reading.

  “I feel like such a sneak,” Lily said as she finished her first page and went on to the second.

  “I know what you mean, I—” Danielle didn’t finish what she was saying, but instead grabbed hold of Lily’s arm and said, “This is it!” She showed the page to Lily.

  A woman meets a man under the pier. They argue. She is blackmailing him. While she yells at him, he finds an empty wine bottle in the sand. He picks it up and hits her over the head. It kills her. He removes all her rings. She has a ring on every finger, even her thumbs. Diamonds and gold. He covers her body with sand and leaves her there. He doesn’t want the rings. He throws the dead woman’s jewelry off the pier. When he puts his hand back into his pocket, he finds one of her rings he missed. He throws it in the ocean with the others and hears a splash.

  Slowly, Lily and Danielle lifted their heads and looked into each other’s eyes.

  “Holy crap!” they gasped.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Getting his sons to school on time Friday morning prevented Edward MacDonald from having his first cup of morning coffee at home. He was just sitting down at his desk to enjoy his first cup of the day when he was informed Carla, the waitress from Pier Café, needed to speak to him—and only to him. It was urgent.

  “How can I help you, Carla?” MacDonald asked after she was shown to his office and sitting in a chair facing him.

  Dressed in her waitress uniform from Pier Café, she wore her hair pulled back in a haphazard bun. It looked as if she had fixed her hair on the run, and now strands were escaping, making her look sloppy rather than untidy chic. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. MacDonald had never seen Carla look so haggard.

  “I think my life might be in danger,” she said nervously.

  Setting his mug on the desk, MacDonald asked, “How so?”

  “I think Steve might have killed Jolene Carmichael, and I could be next.”

  “Steve?” MacDonald frowned.

  “Steve Klein, the bank manager,” Carla explained.

  “Why would Steve kill Jolene—why would he want to kill you?”

  Fidgeting with the purse on her lap, she looked from it to MacDonald. “He obviously wants to kill me because I know he killed Jolene. Well…I don’t know exactly. But I think it’s possible.”

  “Let’s back it up a little, Carla. Why do you think Steve killed Jolene?”

  “He was there that night at the restaurant. He left right after Jolene.” Carla reached back and tucked some of her escaping hair back into her bun.

  “A number of people were there that night and left after Jolene,” MacDonald countered.

  “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure Mrs. Carmichael was blackmailing Steve.”

  “Blackmailing him? Where did you get that idea?” MacDonald picked up his cup and sipped his coffee.

  Closing her eyes for a brief moment, Carla chewed her lower lip nervously and then opened her eyes and looked at the chief. “Steve and I have been having an affair.”

  Slowly, MacDonald set his cup back on his desktop while his eyes fixed on Carla.

  “I know it makes me look awful,” she groaned. “And I hate coming here and having to admit it all. He is a married man, after all. But gee, there are no decent single men in town.” Realizing what she had just said, Carla stammered a moment and then added, “I didn’t mean you, Chief. You’re a real decent guy…but you aren’t single anyhow, not really. You have a girlfriend. The thing is…I really don’t want to be next. I don’t want to end up dead because I made a stupid relationship choice. Hell, if that was some rule, I’d be dead by now.”

  When Carla finally stopped talking, MacDonald asked, “Are you saying Jolene knew about the affair, and she was blackmailing Steve over it?”

  Carla nodded. “I don’t know how she found out. I thought we were being careful. But I know she’s been trying to get a loan from the bank, and Steve turned her down. We…umm�
�one time he came over to my place, it was after talking to her, and he was so annoyed. I guess he needed to vent. Told me Jolene Carmichael was broke. Lost everything because of that deal with Clarence Renton getting sued and stuff. He said no way his bank would loan her the money. That he wasn’t about to jeopardize his career for her.”

  “How do you know she was blackmailing him?”

  Still fidgeting with her purse, she shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “The night she was killed, Steve came into the diner and told me we needed to stop seeing each other, that Jolene knew about our affair. I didn’t think he meant we needed to end it for good, just cool it for a while.”

  “Did he tell you he was being blackmailed?”

  Carla shook her head. “Not exactly. But last night he came over to my place, and when he left, he told me his wife was coming home and that we couldn’t see each other. I figured with Jolene dead, we didn’t have to cool it anymore.” Carla’s eyes widened, and she looked into the chief’s face. Hastily she added, “Not that I was glad she was dead or anything, or that I even suspected Steve might be responsible—not then.”

  “What made you start wondering if Steve killed Jolene?”

  “Last night…umm…I…well, I sorta hacked into Steve’s email account.” She stopped fidgeting with her purse and opened it. After pulling out a folded piece of paper, she stood up and handed it to MacDonald. “I printed the email out so you can read it.”

  Carla sat back down in her chair while MacDonald read Steve’s email from Jolene. When he finished, he set the sheet of paper on his desk and looked up.

  “What’s Steve done to make you think your life could be in jeopardy?”

  “If he killed Jolene to keep her quiet about our affair, then isn’t it obvious?”

  Carla had been gone about thirty minutes when Danielle arrived at the chief’s office.

  MacDonald greeted her with, “Danielle, with your money, is it really necessary to rummage through the neighbor’s garbage?” He laughed.