The Ghost and the Mystery Writer

by Anna J. McIntyre

  What MacDonald didn’t tell Melony was that Danielle had also called him, telling him what she suspected about Hillary’s muse. It wasn’t something he could share with his old friend.

  “I think she’s crazy,” Melony insisted. “Don’t you find it bizarre she’s here at the same time my mother is murdered?”

  “And her motive?”

  “An insane person doesn’t need a motive. If Hillary had anything to do with my mother’s murder, I’m the one responsible for bringing her here. I was hoping you might think of some reason to take Hillary into custody.”

  “Melony, you’re an attorney. You know better than that. I’ve no legitimate reason to bring her in. I have nothing to charge her with.”

  With a frustrated sigh, she dropped back in her chair and looked to the floor.

  Standing up, MacDonald walked to her side and took her hand. “I can’t tell you everything I know, Melony, but I want you to listen carefully to what I have to say.”

  She looked up into his face.

  “I want you to know this. If I thought for a moment Hillary was a danger to anyone, I would do something. I can’t tell you what I know, but I can promise you that you’re safe at Marlow House. Hillary’s not a danger.”

  MacDonald looked from Melony to where the scent of cigar smoked drifted from and smiled.

  “Yes, yes,” Walt said impatiently, knowing MacDonald couldn’t hear him. “I’m keeping an eye on things. If we’re all wrong about Hillary, I’ll step in.”

  Max slunk through the darkened hallway. They had all shut their doors. He stopped at Danielle’s room, faced the closed door, sat down, and began beating his paws boxer-like against the barrier. After a few minutes of persistent battering, light replaced darkness beneath the door.

  “Get in here, Max,” Danielle said in a hushed whisper as she opened the door a few inches. “You’re going to wake the house!”

  Walt was just coming down the stairs from the attic when he noticed Max slip into Danielle’s bedroom, and the door quietly shut. In the next moment, the light coming from under her door went out. Walt continued on his way and stopped in front of Hillary’s bedroom. Effortlessly, he moved through the wall into the room.

  Moonlight streamed through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the bed where Hillary slept. A gasping sound broke the silence. Walt moved quickly to the bedside and looked down at the woman. Clad in a flannel nightgown, Hillary lay sprawled on her back, her arms outstretched and her mouth wide open. A snort replaced the gasp—followed by another gasp—a snort…

  Rolling his eyes, Walt shook his head and let out a sigh. Focusing his attention on Hillary, he harnessed his energy and watched as she rolled to her side. The snoring stopped. He stayed by her bed a few minutes longer and then moved through the wall back to the hallway.

  His next stop was Lily’s room. He found her sleeping, curled up under a quilt. Red hair spilled over her pillow as she hugged a second pillow. Smiling down at her, his right hand brushed over her cheek. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly in a sleeping smile.

  From Lily’s room Walt moved to where Melony was staying. To his surprise, she wasn’t sleeping, in spite of the fact the lights were out. Dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, Melony sat on the side of her bed, lacing up her shoes. With a frown, Walt glanced around the room. He had seen her an hour earlier going from the bathroom to her bedroom. Then, she had been wearing pajamas. Why did she get dressed? he wondered.

  When she finished lacing up her shoes, Walt watched as Melony grabbed her jacket and then eased open the bedroom door, careful not to make a sound. She peeked into the hallway and then slipped from the room.

  Walt followed Melony down the stairs to the first floor, wondering where she was going. If she hadn’t changed out of her pajamas and put on shoes, he would have assumed she was just going downstairs to get something to eat.

  Once downstairs, Melony went into the library and turned on the light. Walt silently watched as she went through the room, opening and closing drawers.

  “What are you looking for?” he asked aloud. Whatever she was looking for, she didn’t find it. Melony turned off the overhead light and moved back into the darkened hallway. Walt followed her to the kitchen. She turned on the lights and began searching through the drawers and cupboards.

  Whatever she was looking for, Walt assumed she found it when she let out an “Aha!” In her hand, she now held a flashlight. He watched as she clicked it on and off; he assumed to test to see if it was in working order.

  Melony turned off the kitchen lights and moved back into the hallway with the flashlight. He followed Melony down the hallway to the front door. She slipped outside and gently closed the door behind her.

  Walt looked out the side window by the front door and watched as Melony disappeared into the night. “Where is she going?”

  Hugging the jacket around her, Melony walked briskly down the sidewalk. Overhead, the moon lit her way. When she was across the street from Chris’s house, she hurriedly moved to his side of the street and continued on down the road to Pete Rogers’s house. Like Chris’s house, Pete’s was dark.

  Moving quickly, Melony cut between Pete’s house and his neighbor to the north, heading toward the beach. Just as she reached the sand, she glanced around nervously and turned on the flashlight. Keeping it close to her thigh, she walked behind Pete’s house, looking for the location of his bonfire the previous night.

  After finding it, Melony moved the beam of her flashlight over the fire pit. Kneeling down, she took a closer look. There wedged between the rocks, under a fresh pile of firewood, tucked among the ashes, were slivers of scorched paper. Reaching out, Melony pinched the exposed edges and gently tugged them from their nest to have a closer look.

  Directing the flashlight’s beam on the bits of paper she now held, Melony let out a startled gasp. Dropping the cindered bits onto the sand, she went down on her hands and knees and scrambled to move the newly placed wood, seeking whatever remnants of paper might still be trapped.

  Abruptly light replaced dark. Still on her hands and knees, Melony looked up into the bright light of a flashlight.

  “Melony?” the voice behind the flashlight called out.

  Blinking her eyes, Melony slowly stood, facing Pete Rogers. In one hand she held a flashlight while her other hand fisted tightly, holding the bits of paper she had grabbed on to before being bathed in light.

  “Pete…oh, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to wake you,” she stammered.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked, now lowering his flashlight to his hip so it was no longer shining on her.

  “I…I lost something last night. I…I thought maybe I dropped it over here when I came over to say hi.”

  Pete flashed the light back along the area she had just been rummaging through. “In the bonfire?”

  “It was a necklace,” she said quickly. “A gold necklace. I was looking around the area and thought I saw something shiny in the wood.”

  Pete studied her a moment and then smiled. “You know, I found a necklace out here this morning. I wondered who it belonged to.”

  “You did?” she squeaked.

  “Yeah. Come on in the house, and I’ll show it to you. I set it on the counter in the kitchen. It has to be yours. Can’t believe two people lost a necklace along here.”

  “Umm…okay.” Melony reluctantly followed Pete and then paused at the back door. “Maybe I better stay out here. I got a little dirty looking for it. You could bring it out for me?”

  Standing just inside his house, Pete looked out at Melony, saying nothing. Finally, he smiled again and said, “I’ll be right back.”

  Glancing around anxiously, one hand still fisted tightly, Melony considered running back to Marlow House. You’re being silly, she told herself. Pete had no reason to kill Mother. He was probably burning tax papers like Adam said. It’s my imagination the paper in his fire pit looks a little like the paper I found.

  When Pete r
eturned to the door, he carried what appeared to be a gold chain in his hand. Melony let out the breath she had been nervously holding. See, he really did find a necklace—it has all been a coincidence.

  “I’m sure this is yours,” Pete said cheerfully, holding out his hand.

  Just as Melony moved closer to have a better look, the necklace slipped from his hand and onto the ground.

  “No, I’m afraid that’s not it,” Melony told him as she reached down to pick the chain up from the ground.

  Pete’s flashlight hit the back of her skull just as her hand touched the fallen necklace.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  She wasn’t dead. The blow to her head hadn’t killed her as it had her mother. Pete dragged Melony into the house. Before she came to, he used duct tape to secure her wrists, fasten her ankles together, and cover her mouth. He couldn’t have her limbs flailing about as he dragged her to his garage, and he didn’t want to hear her questions if she regained consciousness.

  Pete had liked Melony, he didn’t want to do this, but she obviously knew. He had been foolish to assume Jolene hadn’t told her daughter. Perhaps Melony had been estranged from her family in her teen and early adult years, but after Doug had died, Jolene had made it clear that fences had been mended, and she was going to New York to be close to her daughter.

  Moving her through the house proved easy enough after he rolled her onto the throw rug and slid the bundled load over the linoleum. Getting her from the kitchen to the attached garage proved more difficult, but he managed to do so. Now all he needed to do was hoist her into the trunk of his car.

  Chris stumbled out of bed, yawned, and scratched his head. He then made his way to the kitchen to get a glass of water. If he stopped to look in a mirror, he would see his hair standing on end and might be impressed he managed to obtain that style without applying a liberal amount of hair wax. But he didn’t stop, and even if he had, he probably wouldn’t be able to see his reflection, considering the lights were all off.

  In the kitchen, he yawned again as he grabbed a glass out of the overhead cupboard and went to fill it with ice and water from the refrigerator door. As he stood before the refrigerator a moment later, holding the glass under the low-pressure waterspout, he yawned again and glanced toward the living room and the sliding door on the far wall, where the moonlight was streaming in.

  Still half asleep, he waited patiently for his cup to fill while absently looking at the sliding glass door. His slumber-induced stupor ended abruptly when a woman’s face pressed against the glass pane and looked into his house. He managed to maintain hold of the glass, but dropped it a moment later when she stepped into his living room, moving effortlessly through the glass door. It was Jolene Carmichael’s spirit.

  Glass shattered across Chris’s kitchen floor. He made no attempt to clean it up, but instead stood frozen by the refrigerator while Jolene’s shadowy form moved toward him. Before she reached the kitchen, the overhead light went on, illuminating the room.

  “He has her!” Jolene shouted. “He’s going to kill her!”

  “Who are you talking about?” Chris asked.

  “You must save my daughter!” she begged.

  “Melony? Who has Melony?” he asked.

  Jolene pointed north. “She’s in the trunk of his car. Hurry before he takes her away.”

  “Who has her?” he demanded.

  “Pete Rogers,” Jolene said, right before she vanished.

  Forgetting what he had just dropped, Chris took a step, landing one bare foot on a shard of glass. Letting out a curse, he pulled up his foot, stood on one leg, and gingerly removed the sliver from his heel. Blood dripped from his foot, but he ignored it and managed to jump over the rest of the glass, hopping into the living room, leaving a trail of blood along the way.

  He didn’t grab shoes or a jacket before heading outside, but he snatched up the flashlight he had left on the coffee table earlier. He had to find out, was Jolene right—did Pete Rogers have Melony locked in his car trunk?

  Joe Morelli hated the night shift. The only reason he was working was because they were shorthanded, and since Jolene’s murder, everyone was putting in extra hours. There had been an increase of calls coming in, reporting suspicious activities. Several minutes earlier, a call had come in from the woman who lived across the street from Chris Glandon. No, you have to call him Chris Johnson, he reminded himself, still finding the situation annoying.

  According to the caller, someone with a flashlight was lurking around the neighborhood. Joe turned down Beach Drive. Just as he passed Chris’s house, he spied a shadowy figure by the back door leading into Pete Rogers’s garage. Turning his headlights on the man, Joe stopped his car and demanded the intruder freeze.

  To Joe’s surprise, Chris Johnson’s startled faced looked in his direction, his wild hair standing on end. Despite the cool evening air, Chris stood shirtless and barefoot by Pete’s back door, wearing just boxers, while holding his flashlight limply at his side.

  Joe stood beside his now parked squad car, its headlights aimed at Pete’s house, and ordered Chris to walk toward him. Chris, now shivering, complied. Just as he reached the sidewalk, Pete’s porch light turned on, and the front door opened.

  “What’s going on out here?” Pete demanded.

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Joe said.

  “I’m glad you’re here!” Chris said excitedly.

  Bemused, Joe looked Chris up and down and said dryly, “I imagine you are.”

  “What are you doing here?” Pete demanded.

  Joe pointed to Chris, who now hugged his own body and shivered, as if just realizing it was cold outside. “Looked like Chris here was trying to break into your garage.”

  “He has Melony in the trunk of his car!” Chris told him. “Quick, you need to get her out!”

  “What are you talking about?” Pete asked. “Are you crazy?”

  Walking over to the side of the house, Joe glanced down to the door leading into the garage. “There’s no window over here, how exactly do you know Melony is in his garage?”

  “She’s in the trunk of the car!” Chris explained.

  “Have you been drinking?” Pete asked.

  “When did you last see Melony, Chris?” Joe asked.

  Chris stared blankly at Joe. The truth was, he hadn’t seen her since the night before.

  “Can you prove you were in Chicago at the time of Jolene Carmichael’s murder?” Joe asked Chris. The two men sat in the Frederickport Police Department’s interrogation room. Once reaching the station, Joe had taken pity on Chris and had loaned him a jacket.

  “I told you, let me talk to Chief MacDonald. Rogers is going to get away. Melony’s life’s in danger.”

  “And I told you the chief is at home, and I imagine sound asleep considering it’s almost two in the morning. I’m going to repeat my question; can you prove you were in Chicago at the time of Jolene Carmichael’s murder?”

  “Actually, I was in New York when she was killed. And yes, I can prove I was there. If you aren’t going to call the chief for me, I demand I get my phone call, now!”

  With a shrug, Joe stood up, looked down at Chris, and said with a smirk, “Fine. I guess I’ll have to bring you a phone. Doesn’t look like you have your cellphone with you.”

  “I’ll need a phonebook too,” Chris called out as Joe walked to the door.

  Joe paused at the doorway a moment and looked back to Chris. “Just want you to know, the chief’s number is unlisted.”

  Danielle didn’t wake up on the first ring. It was the third ring that roused her from slumber. Groggily sitting up in bed, she rubbed her eyes and glanced at the alarm clock. Picking up her cellphone, she looked to see who was calling.

  “Frederickport Police Department?” Danielle muttered when she read her phone.

  Sitting up in bed, she reached over and turned on the light from her nightstand and then answered the call. “Hello? Who is this?”

 
“Danielle, it’s Chris,” he said breathlessly.

  “Why are you calling from the police station?” She glanced at the alarm clock. “It’s after two!”

  “Listen, Danielle, it’s important. Melony’s life is in danger, and that jerk Joe Morelli might come in here any minute and take the phone from me.”

  Danielle glanced to the closed door leading to the upstairs hallway, thinking of Melony, who she believed was sound asleep under her roof. “What’s going on, Chris?”

  He then went on to tell her everything he knew.

  Danielle was out of her bed and in the hallway before she got off the phone. Throwing open Melony’s bedroom door, she found the bed empty.

  “She left a while ago,” Walt told her when he appeared in the hallway, standing behind Danielle, who stood in Melony’s doorway.

  Twirling around to face Walt, the cellphone still in her hand, Danielle paused a brief moment and then raced to the stairs. “Wake Lily! Tell her to get downstairs, quick!”

  Walt stood at the top of the stairs and frowned at Danielle, who barreled down the stairs. “Just how am I supposed to do that? What’s going on?”

  Danielle paused one step away from the first-floor landing and looked back up at Walt. She let out a frustrated groan. “I don’t know; you figure it out. I don’t have time! Pete Rogers might have gotten away already. He has Melony in the trunk of his car!”

  Turning her back to Walt, Danielle continued on, racing for the kitchen door. En route, she pressed the button on her iPhone and summoned Siri. “Call Police Chief McDonald’s home phone.”

  Barefoot and wearing her pajamas, Danielle grabbed her car keys from the kitchen counter and raced out the back door. A moment later, she was backing out of her driveway while talking to a half-asleep Edward McDonald on her cellphone.