The Ghost and the Doppelganger

by Anna J. McIntyre

  Eva shook her head. “Not mine. My parents purchased the canvas for my portrait. Johnny was a dear, but he was as poor as a church mouse. In fact, the only reason my parents hired him was because I asked them to. At the time Johnny was working for a little theater group, primarily painting scenery. He was very talented. But the manager of the group skipped town without paying its people, and it really left Johnny in a tight spot. He desperately needed the money.”

  Danielle looked at Walt. “How about your portraits? Did he supply the canvases?”

  Walt shook his head. “No. It was Angela’s idea to do life-size portraits. We had to special order the canvases. They were new.”

  “I would love to find out the artist’s full name,” Danielle grumbled.

  “There is one person who might remember,” Walt suggested.

  There was a moment of silence and then Danielle groaned. “Angela.”

  Ten

  Alone in her bedroom, Danielle sat on the side of her mattress, talking to Lily on her cellphone.

  “I thought you would cancel tonight,” Lily told her.

  Dressed for company, fresh makeup on, and her hair recently washed and combed, Danielle looked to her closed bedroom door while holding the phone to her ear. “No. I’m not going to cancel just because Walt’s cousin is a jerk. I’m just changing tonight’s theme, and, Lily, you have to come.”

  Danielle could hear Lily’s sigh through the phone. “I’m coming. Is he going to be there, or are they going out? Please say they’re going out.”

  “I told them I was having a casual dinner party, and they were welcome to stay. I didn’t mention I had originally scheduled the party so some of my friends could meet Walt’s cousin. But I don’t think they’re going to be here. He asked me what the best restaurant in town was. I suggested Pearl Cove.”

  “What about Jim Macbeth?”

  Danielle chuckled. “His name’s not Jim Macbeth.”

  “Well, that’s what I’m calling him.”

  “He’s not going to be here either,” Danielle told her.

  “So he’s going to Pearl Cove with them?”

  “No. He’s driving to Astoria. Said he used to know some people there and was going to see if they’re still in town. He also told me to keep the library locked while my guests were here, that he didn’t want anyone messing with his paintings.”

  “That’s kind of nervy. What did you say to him?”

  “I told him he was pretty demanding for a guy using a fake name and with a reputation for art fraud.”

  Lily gasped. “You didn’t!”

  Danielle chuckled. “No, I didn’t. But I did tell him that if he was worried about his paintings, perhaps he should keep them in his room when he’s not working on them, because my guests are welcome to go into the library. I’m not locking the door.”

  “Good for you!”

  “I’ll give him his privacy while he’s painting, but considering their attitudes, I’m not feeling so accommodating.”

  Chili simmering in the slow cooker filled the kitchen and beyond with an enticing aroma. Even Clint and Stephanie appreciated the tempting fragrance. Yet not enough to cancel their Friday dinner plans.

  Clint had just stepped out of the living room, where he had been watching television, and was on his way to find Stephanie when the first dinner guests arrived. It was Chris Johnson and Heather Donovan. The neighbors hadn’t intentionally arrived together, but since they both lived on Danielle’s street, they happened to arrive at the same time.

  Neither Chris nor Heather bothered knocking; they simply entered the house, yet came to an abrupt stop when faced with Walt’s cousin.

  Standing just five feet from Clint, Heather blurted, “Walt, what did you do with your hair, your clothes?”

  Expressionless, Clint muttered, “Funny.” Turning from the pair, he made his way to the kitchen without saying another word.

  Heather was about to go after Clint when Chris grabbed her forearm and pulled her back. “That’s not Walt. That’s the cousin.”

  Turning to Chris, Heather frowned. “No! Walt’s just messing with us. I know his cousin resembles him, but there’s no way he looks exactly like him. That’s impossible. They aren’t even that closely related.”

  “What’s impossible?” Walt asked when he appeared the next moment.

  “Hey, Walt, we just met your cousin—sort of. But Heather scared him off.” Chris chuckled.

  “Don’t be lame,” Heather snapped. She looked at Walt and said, “You look better with your hair like that.”

  The next moment Heather discovered Walt wasn’t playing tricks when Clint and Stephanie returned from the kitchen and walked by them, heading for the front door. They made no attempt to greet Chris or Heather.

  “My cousin isn’t particularly friendly,” Walt noted, watching the pair leave out the front door.

  “Oh my gosh, it really wasn’t you!” Heather gasped. “How can he look so much like you?”

  “I have no idea, but it’s exceedingly annoying,” Walt grumbled.

  Had Joe been dating someone else, Danielle would probably not have invited him to her gathering. But his girlfriend, Kelly, was Ian’s sister and a new resident of Frederickport; plus, Kelly was curious to get another glimpse at Walt’s cousin. Unfortunately for her, Clint and Stephanie had already left before they arrived.

  Melony was also curious to see the cousin, but like the other guests, aside from Chris and Heather, he was already gone when she and Adam showed up. Most of the group gathered in the living room for cocktails before dinner, and Adam was telling them of the rude encounter he’d had with Clint and what he had heard him say to Lily. Lily kept muttering how embarrassing it had all been, while Adam told the story.

  Chief MacDonald was the only one who had arrived with a child—his youngest, Evan. Eddie Jr. was at a sleepover with friends for the night. Evan spent his time in the hallway with Sadie, rolling the ball for her down the long entry.

  Later, when the group gathered in the dining room for chili, Melony said, “I wonder if they’ll be back before we leave. I’m curious to see if he really looks that much like the portrait.”

  “Oh, he does,” Heather told her as she took a place at the long dining room table with her bowl of chili.

  “I thought maybe the artist would be here,” Joe said. He and Kelly sat down.

  “Jim Macbeth went to Astoria. Or so he says,” Lily piped.

  “I thought his name was Jim Hill?” Kelly asked.

  All eyes turned to Lily.

  “Really, Lily? You’re going to accidentally call him that.” Danielle placed baskets of warm cornbread on the table.

  “So? I don’t have anything to hide; he does,” Lily said.

  “Who is hiding what?” Joe asked.

  “Apparently the artist Clint Marlow hired is using an alias,” the chief explained.

  “Does that mean he’s not a real artist?” Melony asked.

  “No. By all accounts he’s an excellent artist, but he has a shady past,” Danielle said. “And I would appreciate it if this conversation stays here. He doesn’t know I know who he really is, and I would prefer it if you all would say nothing for now.”

  “This is why it’s not a good idea for you to welcome strangers in your home,” Joe said.

  “Please, Joe, don’t start,” Danielle groaned.

  “Yes, Joe,” Kelly snapped. “It’s really none of your business what Danielle does.”

  Chris had followed Danielle into the kitchen when she went to get more cornbread. He wanted to know what she wasn’t telling the others—those who had no idea Walt haunted Marlow House.

  “Why is it important to learn more about the artist who painted Walt’s portraits?” Chris asked after Danielle filled him in. The two stood alone in the kitchen. “I imagine he’s been dead for years.”

  “We’re just wondering why Macbeth is using an alias,” Danielle explained.

  Chris shrugged. “I can understand why. I us
e an alias, and it doesn’t mean I have nefarious intentions.”

  “How can we be sure of that?” Walt asked when he appeared a moment later.

  Chris looked at Walt and grinned. “You can’t.”

  “For one thing, this guy has a sketchy past,” Danielle suggested, ignoring Chris and Walt’s exchange.

  “Which is more reason for him to use an alias. I imagine he doesn’t want people to start asking him embarrassing questions,” Chris pointed out.

  “Ian suggested the same thing. Yet he doesn’t think that’s the reason. He’s having one of his gut feelings that there is more to the story,” Danielle explained.

  “Plus, this Macbeth guy did spend an exorbitant amount of time examining the backs and frames of my portraits,” Walt told him. “He was looking for something.”

  “So you don’t think he’s just here to copy the portraits?” Chris asked.

  “No,” Danielle said. “Because of Macbeth’s history and the fact he was so curious about the canvases, my first guess was that maybe there was something under one of the paintings. Like a stolen masterpiece.”

  “Except that can’t be it because those were painted on new canvases. I saw them,” Walt said.

  “So what now?” Chris asked.

  “I still want to find out what I can about the original artist,” Danielle said.

  “Why?” Chris frowned.

  Danielle shrugged. “I don’t know. I just want to. I kind of agree with Ian, something feels funny about all this. Especially after meeting Walt’s cousin. I know he was kind of a jerk in the emails, but I didn’t expect him to be…well…”

  “As jerky?” Chris suggested.

  Danielle nodded. “Exactly. And Lily is right. For someone willing to pay a fortune to have two paintings reproduced—and I can’t believe it isn’t costing Clint a fortune—he doesn’t seem that interested in the originals.”

  “Lily mentioned that to me,” Chris noted.

  “Joanne noticed it too. Before she went home tonight, she said it was odd that someone who didn’t seem to have any appreciation for Marlow history would want a copy of the portraits.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?” Chris asked.

  “I’m going to talk to the only person I know who might remember the artist’s name. That way, I can look him up. See if there is anything about him that might explain why Macbeth is so interested in those paintings. Who knows, maybe it’s the frame he’s interested in. Maybe Walt’s artist was a notorious jewel thief and hid a fortune in the frames.” Danielle grinned at the idea.

  “Who are you going to talk to, Eva?” Chris asked.

  “No. I already talked to Eva. Tomorrow, I’m going to talk to Angela.”

  Clint and Stephanie sat side by side in a Pearl Cove booth, overlooking the ocean view. If not for the outside lighting, they wouldn’t have much to look at. Clint’s right hand covered Stephanie’s left hand while his thumb gently rubbed her wrist.

  “I adore you,” Clint whispered.

  “Not as much as I adore you,” Stephanie purred, resting her head against his shoulder.

  “I can’t wait until we’re away from here and all these annoying idiots,” Clint grumbled.

  “Aren’t you the one always telling me to be patient?” she reminded him.

  With a sigh, he kissed the tip of her nose. “I know. But sometimes it’s hard.”

  “You know, Clint, I understand there is nothing that annoys you more than having to waste your time on people you don’t care about—”

  “Which is one reason I’m so happy to be giving up real estate. You’ve no idea how painful it was to pretend I actually cared what my clients wanted. It was excruciating. Never again.”

  “I understand that. But we need to get through these two weeks here or else none of that will matter. We won’t be able to leave.”

  With a frown, Clint pulled away from Stephanie and looked at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know I’m nervous about all this.”

  “I know. But we’ll pull it off,” he insisted.

  “Not if Danielle starts asking questions. Everything could blow up in our faces.”

  “Why would she start asking questions?” he asked.

  “I overheard Joanne and Danielle talking in the kitchen tonight. Joanne finds your lack of interest in the portraits odd. She said you don’t care about family history—”

  “I don’t. I’ve made no secret of that. Anyway, Joanne was just saying that crap because I busted her tonight. The woman has absolutely no customer-service skills.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Joanne has Danielle wondering why you’re so interested in the portraits.”

  “Obviously because I look just like Walt Marlow.” He laughed.

  Stephanie shook her head. “But that doesn’t explain why you would bother reproducing his wife’s portrait.”

  Clint studied Stephanie, his expression somber. “You really think we could have a problem?”

  “When you first emailed Danielle about buying the originals and you threw in that bit about painting my face on the other portrait, I asked why you told her that since you obviously would never do it. You explained that Danielle probably wouldn’t up the price if she felt you were willing to paint over one, because she wouldn’t start wondering if there was some other reason you wanted them. I thought that was pretty clever of you. It was also smart of you to say you wouldn’t paint over it if it bothered her. It doesn’t matter if those portraits were worth nothing, someone like Danielle would probably balk over painting over anything old like that.”

  “So?”

  “So it would make more sense to them if you were having the artist paint my face on the wife’s reproduction.”

  “But we can’t do that.”

  “Obviously, Clint. But you see the problem? Maybe you need to take a little interest in family history so they stop wondering why you want those portraits, especially the wife’s.”

  Clint considered her suggestion for a moment. Finally, he let out a sigh and said, “I guess you’re right. I didn’t really consider that. At this point, I don’t want to do anything to screw this up. But what do I do now?”

  “Well…one of my aunts was into family history. If she were you, she would be totally goofy over those portraits. If she were here, the first thing she would do is take a trip to the cemetery.”

  “Cemetery? Why would I want to go there?”

  “Because that’s where people go when they’re into family history. From what I read online, your look-alike cousin and his family are buried there. We go in the morning, take a bunch of photos, and then go back to Marlow House and act all excited and show them to Danielle. I’d say bore her to death, but chances are she might really find it interesting.”

  “Chances are Danielle Boatman has already taken her own photographs of my dear cousin’s grave. She seems a little too engrossed in my family history.”

  “Whatever, but we need to do this. It’s the only thing I can think of to get the thought out of her head that there might be another reason you’re interested in the portraits.”

  Eleven

  The night before, Macbeth Bandoni hadn’t removed his paintings from the library to his bedroom. However, he had covered them each with a sheet and had secured a sticky note on each one, asking that they not be touched. After taking a closer look at each covered canvas, Danielle was relieved to discover they weren’t her sheets. Bandoni must have brought them with him.

  The fact he had left the paintings in the library while she had dinner guests made Danielle wonder if he wasn’t as concerned about his paintings as he let on. Was there another reason he didn’t want anyone in the library? she wondered.

  It was Saturday morning, and no one—aside from Danielle and Joanne—was enjoying the breakfast offered at Marlow House B and B. Bandoni was still sleeping in his room. He had gotten in very late the night before, several hours after the last of her dinner guests had said their goo
dbyes. As for Clint and Stephanie, they were gone when she got up that morning. According to Joanne, they told her they were going out for breakfast and then sightseeing.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Walt asked Danielle as she went up to her bedroom to retrieve her purse after breakfast.

  “I’m not thrilled to see your wife.” Standing in her bedroom, Danielle opened her purse to make sure her wallet was inside. “But I need to do this.”

  “Please don’t call her my wife. As I recall, we said until death do us part; therefore, I no longer consider her my spouse.”

  Shutting her purse, Danielle smiled up at Walt. “Fair enough. But you got that from Marie, didn’t you?”

  Walt grinned. “Yes. And she’s right. So what do you really hope to find?”

  Danielle shrugged. “I seriously doubt anything. But I don’t know what else to do. I guess it’s probably up to you.”

  “Up to me?”

  “Yep. Just keep a close eye on our houseguests, and if they do anything suspicious, let me know. Hopefully this is nothing more than Ian’s overactive imagination, and when your cousin leaves at the end of two weeks, it will all be very uneventful.”

  Danielle had just stepped onto the cemetery lawn when Angela appeared before her. Dressed in the same outfit as she had worn when sitting for the portrait—including the hat—Danielle wondered why she had chosen that particular ensemble.

  “You’re here to tell me I can go now?” Angela asked excitedly.

  Danielle came to an abrupt halt, startled by Angela’s sudden appearance. “What are you talking about?”

  With a disappointed sigh, Angela slumped dejectedly, her hat disappearing from her head, revealing her shortly cropped blonde curls. “I just assumed that’s why you were here. To tell me I could go.”

  Puzzled, Danielle cocked her head slightly and studied the apparition. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Angela. Why would I have any say in if you can come or go?”

  Angela shrugged. “Of course you don’t have any say. I just assumed you were here to tell me it all worked out.”