The Ghost from the Sea

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “Think about it. Would be rather unfair to saddle my kids—or theirs—with karma I generated.”

  “Ahh, because you’re such a bad guy?” Danielle asked with a chuckle as she pulled her car door shut and looked up at Adam through the open window.

  “I try,” he said with a laugh.

  Adam’s question about Heather and the emerald prompted Danielle to stop by Heather’s before returning to Marlow House. Less than fifteen minutes after leaving Adam, she sat in Heather’s kitchen, watching her neighbor prepare them each a cup of green tea. Taking a deep breath, Danielle inhaled a hint of peppermint. She spied a diffuser sitting on the counter in the corner of the kitchen, a stream of steam swirling upward from its lid. Danielle was fairly certain that was the source of the peppermint.

  “So what about the emerald?” Heather asked as she handed Danielle a cup of tea and joined her at the table.

  “Tomorrow I finalize plans with the museum, and I just wanted to check with you first. Like I said before, I really don’t believe I’m the emerald’s rightful owner.”

  Heather shrugged and took a sip of tea before responding. “Neither am I. You’re the closest thing, in my opinion. Plus, I rather like the idea of donating it to the museum. I think you made a good call there.”

  “Maybe it should be you who donates the emerald, not me.”

  Heather shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t want anything to do with all that. I’m glad you’re donating it, but I don’t want to be involved. I did what I needed to do; I returned the emerald and sent it on its rightful course.”

  An emerald has a destiny? Danielle asked herself, resisting the urge to giggle.

  Heather looked up from her tea, looking Danielle in the eyes, her expression serious. “But now that we’re discussing this, there is something I’ve wanted to talk to you about—without Lily around.”

  Danielle took a sip of tea and then set the cup back on its saucer. She studied Heather’s almost pleading expression. “What’s that?”

  “Back on Halloween, after we got out of Presley House, we talked about Harvey. You admitted seeing him. And yet, since that time, it’s like none of it ever happened. It’s like…well sometimes I wonder…am I crazy?”

  With a deep sigh, Danielle glanced down to her tea and then looked back up. Heather, who Danielle often saw as not just quirky, but opinionated and over confident, now reminded her of an uncertain little girl, a look reinforced by her childish black pigtails.

  “No, you aren’t crazy.” Daniele’s voice was almost a whisper.

  “So you did see him! I didn’t imagine it all!”

  “I know you plan to write a book about what happened, but I’ll be honest, I don’t feel comfortable being included in your book. I don’t want to go public with what I personally experienced.”

  “Why, Danielle? If you aren’t willing to verify it happened, no one will believe me!”

  “Because I know what it feels like when people start looking at you like you’re crazy. I remember how it felt when my parents sent me to a psychiatrist because they couldn’t believe I was really seeing ghosts. I’ve learned, Heather, some gifts are best kept to yourself—or shared with a select group of people.”

  “So Harvey wasn’t really your first ghost?”

  Danielle shook her head. “No Heather, he wasn’t.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rowland and Stella stood behind the yellow tape and watched the police officers haul equipment from the police van parked on the side of the street to the wreckage. Stella had been shooting questions at the officers, but so far, the only response she had received was a request to stand back from the yellow tape.

  “They’re busy, Stella. Stop bothering them,” Rowland reprimanded her in a hushed voice.

  “I want to know what they’re doing. Why are they putting all that equipment in the boat?” She craned her neck out in hopes of getting a better look.

  Rowland pointed toward the wreckage. “See over there, that’s a generator.”

  “What do they need a generator for? Are they going to start the boat?”

  Rowland laughed. “Hardly.”

  “Don’t laugh at me!” Stella snapped, flashing her husband an ugly look.

  Rowland’s smile quickly faded. “I’m just saying they’re probably using the generator to run those lights they just took onto the ship.”

  “What do they need lights for?”

  “I imagine it’s dark inside.”

  “Who’s the couple gawking and asking questions?” Brian asked when he joined Joe in a cabin on the lower deck. Other members of their team were busy setting up lights, to help them do a more thorough, final inspection of the ship’s interior.

  “From what I gather, they’re staying at Marlow House.”

  “Tourists.” Brian let out a grunt. “I’ll just be glad when we’re done with this one. We should have brought the generator and lights down yesterday. It’s creepy in here.”

  The ship’s interior looked less haunting fully illuminated. Instead of flashlight beams exposing isolated sections of corroded walls and furnishing, the interior’s ambiance seemed more exposed and abandoned under the floodlights’ harsh glare.

  After re-exploring the cabin where they had discovered the box of jewelry, Brian and Joe waited for the floodlights to be set up in the adjacent cabin. When they were ready, Brian walked inside and stood by what appeared to be a trunk, shoved and forgotten in the corner, covered with barnacles. Reaching out, he lightly touched the trunk’s exterior and said, “This ship had to have been underwater at one time, and judging by how these feel, it wasn’t that long ago.”

  “When I came in here the last time, I thought that was part of the wall,” Joe stood next to Brian.

  “Everything looks different under the floodlights.” Brian reached down and attempted to open the trunk, but it appeared to be rusted shut. “I really don’t want to have to drag this thing out of here.”

  “Just a second,” Joe said. He left the cabin for a minute and returned with a crowbar. Brian stood by and watched as Joe pried open the trunk’s lid. Once loose, Brian and Joe lifted it up revealing its gruesome contents.

  “I guess we missed this one,” Brian said dully as he stared at the skeleton shoved into the trunk. Unlike most of the skulls they had found onboard, this man’s skull remained attached to the rest of his skeleton, while remnants of his suit hung limply from the bones: bones folded like a pretzel into the barnacle encrusted trunk.

  Brian leaned closer and examined the remains. “By what’s left of his clothes, I’d say it was a man.”

  “I wonder why they put him in here.” Joe reached out and touched the skull, gently turning it from side to side. “I don’t see a bullet. Do you think he was shoved in here alive?”

  Brian shook his head. “If he was, I don’t see any signs that he tried to get out.”

  After Joe pulled back his hand, Brian reached out and gently moved what was left of the shirt’s fabric, to one side, exposing the skeleton’s rib cage. “No, he was killed here.”

  “What is it?” Joe leaned in, his head just inches from Brian’s as the two officers hovered over the open trunk.

  Brian pointed to the small metal object resting on the bottom of the trunk, below the rib cage. “I’d say that’s a bullet. My guess, they shot him in the chest, not in the head like the others.”

  “I wonder why they bothered putting him in the trunk.” Joe stood up straighter, no longer leaning over the remains.

  “I don’t know.” Brian muttered, reaching for the skeleton’s right hand. “But this might be able to help us identify him.”

  “A ring?” Joe asked.

  With his gloved hand, Brian slipped the gold ring off the bony finger, examining it. “Not just any ring. It’s a Masonic ring.” Tilting it from side to side, he looked closer, searching for an inscription.

  “Anything?” Joe asked.

  “Looks like initials. But I can’t tell. I’
ll need a magnifying glass.”

  “Old man,” Joe teased, taking the ring from Brian. “Let me see.” He studied it for a moment, holding it near one of the floodlights. Finally, he said, “J. W.”

  “J. W.? By the way he’s dressed, I don’t think he’s part of the crew. And I don’t remember any of the passengers with those initials.”

  Joe handed the ring back to Brian and then pulled his cellphone from his pocket. After searching through the notes he had stored, he came to what he was looking for. Shaking his head, he looked up at Brian and said, “No. I don’t have a passenger with those initials.”

  “What about the last name?” Brian asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe it’s not his ring. Maybe it was his father’s. Same last initial, different first initial.”

  Joe took a second look, shook his head, and tucked the phone back in his pocket. “No. None of the passengers’ last names started with a W.”

  It was dark by the time Stella and Rowland returned to Marlow House. They had driven their car up the block to see the wreckage, instead of walking. Rowland was willing to walk, in spite of his artificial knee; it was Stella who had insisted they drive the short distance.

  Instead of returning immediately to Marlow House after their visit to the Eva Aphrodite, they headed to town in search of a restaurant for dinner. Rowland enjoyed the Friday night special of fish and chips, Stella not so much. She claimed hers was greasy and returned it to the kitchen—after eating two-thirds of the meal.

  At Marlow House, they found Lily and Danielle in the living room sitting side by side on the sofa. The Sterlings hadn’t yet met Lily. Stella’s gaze went immediately to Lily’s right arm and the dragon tattoo.

  “What would ever possess you to get something like that?” Stella gasped.

  “Stella, please,” Rowland said under his breath.

  “Why can’t I ask? If a young girl puts something like that on her body, for all to see, then she must want people to look at her. So why is it wrong for me to ask a simple question? I’m sure I’m not the first person to ask her about it.”

  Lily glanced down at her right arm, and then back to Stella. “Well, it all started with tequila.”

  Stella arched her brows. “Tequila?”

  Lily nodded solemnly. “And an ill advised trip to Mexico.”

  “You got a tattoo in Mexico?” Stella gasped.

  Lily shrugged. “I can’t really be sure. When I woke up I was in San Diego.”

  “You got a tattoo when you were drunk?”

  “Isn’t that when most people get tattoos?” Lily asked innocently.

  “If so, our generation has a serious drinking problem,” Danielle muttered under her breath as she rolled her eyes over Lily’s impromptu explanation.

  Abruptly changing the subject, Rowland said, “It was most interesting down at the beach this afternoon. I was surprised at how large the boat is. Or would it be called a ship?”

  “It was a yacht. I suppose some might call it a ship, others a boat,” Danielle said.

  “They took a dead body off the ship,” Stella told them.

  “Dead body?” Lily and Danielle asked at the same time.

  “We assume that’s what was in the trunk,” Rowland corrected.

  Danielle frowned. “Did they say there was a body inside?”

  Stella shook her head. “No. they didn’t say anything. In fact, your police aren’t very friendly here. They wouldn’t answer any of my questions, they kept telling us to stay behind the tape. But I overheard a couple of them talking before they brought the trunk out, and they said something about finding a body.”

  Rowland shook his head. “I didn’t hear them say that. But Stella insists—”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” Stella snapped.

  “No dear. I’m just saying I didn’t hear them.”

  “Well, I did!” she said stubbornly.

  “Did you notice if they had lights set up on the boat?” Danielle asked.

  “That’s what it looked like,” Rowland said.

  “The chief did mention something to me about bringing lights down and doing a more thorough search of the boat. It’s possible they found more skulls.”

  “Skulls?” Rowland asked.

  “So far, all they’ve really found are human skulls onboard—and a few random bones. That boat went missing almost a hundred years ago,” Lily explained. “After so long, even bones will deteriorate. If you overheard them say they found a body, I wonder if that meant an actual body, which would indicate he or she was put on that boat recently—or that it was just skeletal remains, like the rest.”

  “I’m sure they said they found a body,” Stella insisted.

  When Stella and Rowland left for their room fifteen minutes later, Danielle looked at Lily and asked, “Tequila? Seriously?”

  “I certainly wasn’t going to waste my time telling her the real story. Annoying woman.”

  “One thing about running a bed and breakfast, you get all kinds.”

  “I feel a little sorry for her husband,” Lily said.

  “I know what you mean.”

  “So tell me about the author. Ian went all fan-boy when I told him who’d be staying here.”

  Danielle chuckled. “Fan-boy? For some reason, I don’t see Ian going fan-boy over anyone.”

  Lily grinned. “I guess she’s one of his favorite authors.”

  “That’s saying something, considering Ian’s no slouch in the author department.”

  “I know, but I guess even famous authors can crush over other authors.”

  “I suppose it’s a good thing she’s old enough to be his mother,” Danielle teased.

  “I think your butt’s ringing,” Lily chirped.

  “Funny.” Danielle stood up and pulled her ringing phone from her back pocket. She glanced at it before answering. “It’s Chris.”

  Lily stood up. “Then I’ll let you love birds have some privacy.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Before coming to work that morning, Joanne had stopped by Old Salts Bakery to pick up Danielle’s favorite cinnamon rolls. Sitting quietly at the head of the dining room table, Danielle reminded herself she needed to give Joanne a raise for picking up the pastries. Not because she wanted to eat them, but because they seemed to be the only thing that could shut up Stella Sterling, who was now stuffing her third roll into an already full mouth.

  Sipping her coffee, Danielle looked down the table. To her right, Lily sat next to Hillary Hemingway, the mystery writer who was renting the Red Room for the next month. During check in, Danielle had asked her new guest if she was related to that Hemingway. Hillary only laughed and said, “I wish.”

  The Sterlings sat on the opposite side of the table. It was obvious to Danielle that Mrs. Sterling was determined to get her money’s worth—hence the breakfast binging. Danielle found it hard to believe scrawny Stella Sterling ate copious amounts of food on a regular basis.

  “What’s everyone have planned for today?” Lily asked.

  “I’d like to do some fishing,” Rowland announced.

  “I didn’t come here to fish,” Stella snapped. “You can fish anytime.”

  With a frown, Rowland looked at his wife. “I can?”

  “I’d like to visit the local museum sometime while I’m here,” Hillary said, looking from Lily to Danielle. “Stepping into the past feeds my muse.”

  Stella frowned across the table at Hillary, but continued chewing instead of responding.

  “It’s a nice little museum,” Danielle said. “You can go through it in less than an hour, so it won’t really take up much of your day. I think it’s worth seeing and it might inspire some story ideas.”

  “Aren’t you going to the museum today?” Lily asked Danielle.

  “Yeah, I am. I have to meet with the board of directors.” Danielle took a bite of her cinnamon roll.

  “Danielle’s donating an emerald from the Missing Thorndike to the mus
eum,” Lily announced.

  “Missing Thorndike?” Stella frowned. “Isn’t that the necklace I read about? The one you found in the attic?”

  “Yes. Technically speaking, the emerald is not from the Missing Thorndike. That necklace is sitting in the bank safety deposit box, with all its emeralds and diamonds. The setting originally had another set of stones—that were stolen years ago—and then replaced with what it has now. The emerald I’m donating to the museum is one of the stones that was stolen years ago.”

  “How did you get it?” Stella asked.

  Hillary leaned forward, looking intently at Danielle. “Yes, sounds fascinating.”

  “A descendant of one of the jewel thieves found one of the emeralds in her grandfather’s belongings—along with information proving his father had been involved with the crime. She felt it was her responsibility to return the emerald to its rightful owner, so she gave it to me.”

  “I don’t understand; why are you the rightful owner? Just because you found the necklace here? Didn’t Walt Marlow steal the necklace you found? That’s what I read,” Stella asked.

  “It’s kind of an involved story.” Danielle glanced down the table at Lily, who gave her a guilty shrug. Lily knew what Danielle was thinking at this point. Did you have to bring up the emerald?

  “I’m listening,” Stella said impatiently.

  Danielle let out a deep breath and then forced a smile. “The necklace was originally owned by silent screen star Eva Thorndike. It was a family heirloom. She died at a young age, from a heart condition. Before she died, she realized her ex-husband had removed the real diamonds and emeralds from the setting, and replaced them with fakes. She didn’t want her parents to know, so she asked Walt Marlow—who was a close friend and by her side when she died—to steal them. Which he did. He hid the necklace in the attic at Marlow House.”

  “Oh my, that is so romantic,” Hillary said wistfully.

  Scrunching up her face, Stella looked across the table to Hillary. “How do you see that as romantic?”