The Ghost and the Doppelganger

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “What’s he like?” Joe asked.

  “I didn’t really talk to him much, but overcritical Lily here thought he was a jerk.” Ian chuckled. “After seeing the guy for less than thirty minutes.”

  Lily playfully smacked Ian’s arm. “Well, he was! Hey, you’re the one who thought the artist was using a fake name.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Ian scoffed.

  “What’s this about a fake name?” Joe asked.

  Rolling his eyes, Ian shook his head and then said, “I didn’t say he was using a fake name. It’s just that when I first saw him, I could swear I knew him. The guy’s name was on the tip of my tongue. But when he told me his name, it wasn’t the one I was searching for.”

  “They say we all have a doppelganger,” Kelly said. “Walt Marlow obviously does; maybe this artist does too.”

  “Perhaps I should check him out,” Joe suggested.

  Kelly turned to Joe and frowned. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “Maybe he is using an alias. Maybe your brother’s right, and he is this other guy. I’ve never understood why Danielle wants to run a boardinghouse, bringing strangers under her roof.”

  “It’s a bed and breakfast, not a boardinghouse,” Lily reminded him.

  “That’s worse. New strangers in, week after week. A woman living alone. She’s already had problems with some of her guests, and she certainly doesn’t need the money,” Joe said.

  “Joe, Danielle is a grown woman. I’m sure she can take care of herself,” Kelly said sharply. Ian and Lily exchanged glances, each thinking the same thing, the green monster?

  Bill and Adam had just been served their lunch when Chet walked into Pier Café. He was about to go to the lunch counter when he spied Bill and Adam sitting in a booth.

  “Hey, guys!” Chet greeted when he walked up to them.

  “Chet?” Bill asked with a frown. “When did you get back in town?”

  “About a month ago,” Chet said as he sat down next to Bill without being invited, inadvertently shoving the handyman down the bench. With a grumble, Bill grabbed his plate and silverware and slid it down the table to where he was now sitting.

  “Gee, Chet, why don’t you join us?”

  Ignoring Adam’s sarcasm, Chet reached over Bill and grabbed a menu. “Thanks, I think I will.”

  Exchanging brief glances, Bill and Adam continued eating their lunch.

  While looking over the menu, Chet said, “I was thinking maybe you could take me over to Marlow House. Tell her I happened to be with you and you had to stop for some reason. You can make up something. I don’t want her to think I’m actually interested in her.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Bill asked.

  “Chet has gotten it into his head that Danielle Boatman is hot for him,” Adam said with a snort between bites.

  Bill laughed.

  “Don’t laugh. She cut her hair for me!”

  With a sigh, Adam set his fork on his plate and looked up at Chet. “She didn’t cut her hair for you. She had been thinking of cutting it for a while now.”

  “Yeah, right,” Chet scoffed. “That’s what she tells you. She’s just embarrassed that I know. Trust me, she secretly wants me to tell her how good she looks now. Of course, I won’t…” Chet grinned.

  “Boatman cut off her braid?” Bill asked Adam.

  “Yeah. It looks really cute though. Makes her look kind of sassy.”

  “Hands off, Adam. You have Melony,” Chet warned. “If you were interested in her, you should have moved on her by now.”

  With a frown, Bill turned to Chet. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about. But Danielle Boatman? Like you’d have a chance in hell with someone like her.”

  Adam chuckled. “Actually, I’m kind of surprised hearing you say that, Bill. What is it you used to call Danielle, a space cadet?”

  Bill shrugged. “A space cadet that pays well.” He glanced over at Chet and added, “Space cadet or not, considering who that girl’s dated since she moved here, I don’t see Chet in the running.”

  “Like who?” Chet challenged.

  Bill motioned across the room to Joe Morelli’s booth. “Like the guy not wearing the Cubs baseball cap.”

  “Looks like he has a new girl. Which is even better for me. And that one looks younger than Danielle. That must have hurt, dumped for a younger model.”

  “Danielle didn’t get dumped,” Adam told him. “It was the other way around. Anyway, her last boyfriend could probably get any girl in town.”

  “What’s so wonderful about this guy?” Chet asked.

  “He’s not my type.” Bill chuckled. “But I have to agree with Adam. Google pretty boy and I bet his picture comes up.”

  “Is he her boyfriend now?” Chet asked.

  “They’re just good friends,” Adam said. “But they did date for a while.”

  “If they’re just friends, he’s probably gay,” Chet said. “Which again works in my favor. She’s probably doubting her femininity about now.”

  “You’re as stupid as you were in high school,” Bill muttered.

  “So tell me, Bill, you seeing anyone? Maybe I could help you out, give you a few pointers on picking up women,” Chet sneered.

  “Holy crap!” Adam gasped.

  For just a brief moment Chet and Bill assumed Adam’s exclamation was in response to their conversation, yet when they looked to him, they both saw he was looking toward the entrance of the diner. Curious, they looked to where Adam was staring. They spied a man and woman walking in their direction, looking for a place to sit down.

  “Who is he? He looks familiar,” Bill whispered to Adam.

  “It has to be Walt Marlow’s cousin. Damn, dress the guy up in some vintage clothes, let his hair grow out a little, and you could stick him in the portrait.”

  Just as the couple was about to pass their table, Adam stood up and put his hand out to the man. “Hello, you must be Clint Marlow.”

  Coming to an abrupt stop, Clint stared a moment at Adam’s hand, yet he made no attempt to take it. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and studied Adam’s face. “Who are you?”

  Now feeling awkward with his hand reaching for a handshake, Adam immediately dropped it to his side and stammered, “Umm, I’m Adam Nichols. I’m the one who sent you the link to the Marlow House website.”

  Clint studied Adam for just a moment longer, making no attempt to shake his hand or introduce him to his fiancée. He finally said, “Yeah, well, if you were looking for an agent to do referrals with, I don’t do them.” Without another word, Clint and Stephanie walked to an empty booth.

  Adam sat back down, his eyes still on Clint, who didn’t even look back in his direction.

  “He seems like a nice guy,” Bill said with a chuckle.

  Lily and Ian didn’t notice Clint and Stephanie until they sat down two booths away. They hadn’t witnessed the exchange between Adam and Clint.

  Leaning over the table toward Kelly and Joe, Lily whispered, “There they are. They just sat down.”

  Joe and Kelly looked over to Clint and Stephanie, who were unaware they were being watched.

  “He does look like the portrait,” Kelly gasped. “I think he looks nice.”

  “Kelly’s right, he does look nice,” Ian teased. “You really should give the poor guy a chance.”

  Standing up abruptly, Lily tossed her napkin on the table and said, “Fine, I will.” She marched over to Clint and Stephanie’s table.

  “Hello,” Lily said cheerfully.

  Without a smile, Clint looked up from his menu. By his expression, Lily didn’t think he recognized her.

  “We met last night. I’m Lily Miller…I mean Bartley. I live across the street from Marlow House.” Lily grinned.

  Still not smiling, his voice loud and clear, Clint said, “I know who you are. What do you want?”

  Taken aback by his rude tone, Lily stammered, “Umm…I just wanted to say hi. See if you were enjoying yourself in Frederic
kport.”

  “Why? Are you the Frederickport welcoming committee?”

  Stephanie giggled at Clint’s comment, yet said nothing.

  Lily stared at Clint, not sure what to say next.

  “Miss Miller, or whatever your name is, I’m sure you are a nice person. But as you can see, I am here with my lovely fiancée, trying to enjoy our little vacation. I don’t really need or want to get all chatty with someone who I will never see again after I leave Frederickport, or even care to. So please, would you go back to your table and give us our privacy.”

  Six

  Jim Hill—assuming that was his real name—liked to sleep in. He was still sleeping when Clint and Stephanie went off for lunch Thursday afternoon. When he did wake up, Joanne offered to make him something to eat, since he had missed breakfast that morning. He declined, insisting he only needed coffee—lots of it—and to organize his impromptu art studio.

  In the library he started to set up his easels near the window, to take advantage of the sunlight. When Joanne informed him she needed to first put down the drop cloth, he was insulted, yet begrudgingly moved out of the way while she laid it out. He made no attempt to help her.

  When she was done, he set up his easels and then went to his room to retrieve his paints, brushes, and other supplies. Danielle was just coming down the stairs when Jim went into his bedroom. Curious to see if he had set up the easels, she went to the library. There she found Marie and Walt standing by the portraits, comparing the partially completed reproductions to the originals.

  “Has he started yet?” Danielle asked with a whisper after she entered the library. She didn’t want Joanne or their guest catching her seemingly talking to herself.

  “I think he went to get his paints,” Walt told her, waving his hand for a cigar.

  “He certainly was annoyed when poor Joanne told him they needed to put down a drop cloth,” Marie grumbled. “I don’t like that man.”

  “We don’t even know him,” Danielle reminded her.

  “I don’t need to know him,” Marie declared. “It was enough watching him stand there, not offering to lift a finger to help Joanne put down the drop cloth. Frankly, if I were her, I would have told him to get off his lazy backside and help, or he could take his painting outside!”

  Smiling at Marie, Danielle moved closer to the portraits, her attention on the reproduction of Angela. “I’m a little surprised. It looks like Angela.”

  “Isn’t that the point?” Marie asked.

  “Yes…but Clint mentioned in an email that he didn’t really have a need for Angela’s portrait, but he didn’t want to split them up. This was when he first offered to buy the originals. At the time he said something about maybe painting his fiancée’s face over Angela’s.”

  Stepping closer to the reproduction, her nose slightly scrunching, Marie studied the partially completed face on the canvas. “It’s obviously Angela. Clint must have changed his mind about substituting Stephanie’s face for Walt’s wife.”

  Danielle’s cellphone began to ring. She pulled it out of her back pocket. “Hello? Lily? Why over there? Sure, I guess.” With one finger Danielle tapped the phone’s display to end the call.

  “Everything okay with Lily?” Walt asked.

  “I don’t know. She wants me to go over to her house.” Danielle tucked the phone back in her jean’s back pocket.

  “Do you always talk to yourself?” Jim asked from the doorway.

  “Um…I was just talking on the phone.”

  “While you were putting it into your pocket?” He walked into the library carrying a suitcase, its edges smudged with dried oil paint in varying colors.

  “I guess I was thinking out loud,” she stammered.

  “So you do talk to yourself.” Had his voice had a lighter tone, Danielle might have assumed he was teasing her. But by his sober expression and clipped words, she suspected he wasn’t prone to playful banter.

  Setting the suitcase near the easels, he said, “I need total privacy while I work.”

  “Certainly.” Danielle forced a smile.

  “I want the door closed and locked when I’m working.”

  Danielle frowned. “Locked?”

  “I don’t like interruptions. It interferes with my flow.” He leaned down to the suitcase and opened it.

  “I don’t think we should tell him he’s not going to be alone. Even if you lock the door,” Walt said with a chuckle.

  Jim grabbed several brushes from the suitcase. He paused and looked to Danielle. “Why are you still here?”

  “So you’re going to start now?” Danielle asked.

  “Obviously.”

  Danielle started to walk away, but then paused a moment and faced the artist. “Can I ask you something?”

  “If you promise to leave after you ask your question so I can get to work,” he said impatiently.

  “Clint mentioned wanting to put Stephanie’s face in the portrait instead of Angela’s.”

  Jim frowned. “Who’s Angela?”

  Danielle pointed to the original portrait of Walt’s late wife.

  “I’m reproducing these portraits exactly as the original artist created them. I certainly have no intention of doing something tacky like putting another woman’s face on one of them.”

  “I can’t come over to your house while Walt’s cousin is there,” Lily told Danielle the moment she opened her front door.

  “Well, hello to you too.” Danielle followed Lily into the entry hall. “What do you mean you can’t come over to my house?”

  As Lily shut the front door, Sadie came running from down the hall to greet Danielle, her tail wagging.

  “It’s just too humiliating!” Lily groaned, now heading down the hall.

  Danielle paused a moment to greet the golden retriever and then walked with her to the living room. She found Ian sitting on the sofa, a legal pad of paper in one hand and pen in the other, his Cubs baseball cap abandoned on a chair by the window.

  “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my entire life.” Lily plopped down on the sofa next to Ian.

  “I’m sorry for teasing you, babe.” Ian tossed the pad of paper and pen on the coffee table and then patted Lily’s knee. “If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have gone over to their table.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Danielle took a seat on Ian’s recliner, facing the sofa.

  “We ran into Clint and Stephanie at Pier Café when we were there for lunch,” Lily began. She then went on to recount what Clint had said to her.

  “What a jerk,” Danielle grumbled when Lily finished her story.

  “I could have absolutely died. Everyone in the diner heard.” Closing her eyes, Lily flopped back dramatically on the sofa, flinging her right wrist over her eyes.

  “He really was an ass,” Ian said, once again patting Lily’s knee.

  “Did you say anything to him?” Danielle asked Ian.

  He shook his head. “I have to admit, I was…well…speechless. And then when Lily returned to the table, I got up to say something—”

  “But I stopped him,” Lily interrupted. “That would make it even more awkward, especially for you.”

  “I’m really sorry, Lily.”

  “It’s not your fault, Dani. But, gee, I wish he would have tried that when we were at Marlow House,” Lily grumbled.

  “Yeah, I don’t think Walt would have contained himself.” Danielle chuckled at the thought.

  “Thing is,” Ian began, “it wasn’t Lily who looked bad at the café. It was all Clint. He looked like a major horse’s ass.”

  Uncovering her eyes, Lily sat up on the sofa and smiled. “Yeah, when we were leaving, Carla tried to make me feel better by saying she was going to have the cook spit in his food. But then that just made me wonder if she’d ever done anything to our food!”

  “Adam and Bill were there too, with some other guy,” Ian told her. “Adam told me outside that Clint said something similar to him, and told Lily not to feel bad.�
��

  “It was still embarrassing. I don’t want to see that guy ever again!” Lily insisted.

  “According to Walt, you were rather taken with him,” Ian teased Danielle.

  “When did Walt say that?” Danielle asked.

  Ian chuckled. “It wasn’t in a dream hop. Walt sent me an email last night telling me about his cousin.”

  “So he wasn’t rude to you?” Lily asked.

  “He’s been polite enough.” Danielle shrugged. “I think Walt was talking about the reaction I had when I first met Clint. It was like…well, like Walt had come alive.”

  “Clint is nothing like Walt!” Lily snapped.

  “I agree; his personality is totally different. But when I first met him, aside from the hair and clothes, he was Walt. It was uncanny. Especially when I shook his hand; I can’t explain it.”

  “When I first met him, I didn’t get good vibes,” Lily told her.

  “By the way, the artist he hired is just as charming,” Danielle said.

  “How so?” Ian asked.

  “He told me—told me, he didn’t ask—that the door to the library had to remain locked while he was working, and no one was allowed to enter. He only works in complete privacy.”

  Lily chuckled. “Good luck with that. Did Walt hear him?”

  Danielle smiled. “Both Walt and Marie heard it. I imagine one or both of them will be in the library while he’s painting. I know Marie was concerned he’ll get paint on something.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you, how’s it working out with Marie not moving on?” Ian asked.

  “It’s different than having Walt sticking around. I always know he’ll be there, in the house. Whereas Marie comes and goes, but when she’s at the house, she and Walt seem to get along very well. I think she enjoys hearing stories about her parents, and he enjoys talking to someone about his life—someone who knew the same people he did.”

  Danielle reached down and petted Sadie, who was now curled up by her feet.

  “If this Jim Hill guy is going to be locked up in the library, I don’t imagine Walt will be able to use the computer,” Ian noted.