The Ghost from the Sea

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “Unlike the others, his skeleton was still intact. He wasn’t shot in the head. Looks like they got him in the chest. We found a bullet under his ribcage.”

  “You’re sure it was a man?”

  “That was our initial feeling, based on the clothing remnants we found in the trunk. But the coroner confirmed it.” The chief reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag. “We’re hoping this might help us identify him.” He handed the small transparent bag to Danielle. It contained a man’s ring. Holding the baggie in her hand, she stared, speechless.

  “It’s a Masonic ring,” he explained. “We’ve contacted the local lodge, hoping they might be able to help us. No one with those initials was listed on the passenger list.”

  Still staring at the ring in the bag, she asked, “You mentioned there was some fabric—from his clothes. Can you tell me what kind of fabric? Color, anything?”

  “Pinstripe fabric. Looked gray, but it might have been blue at one time. There are initials inside the ring; that should help.”

  Clutching the bag in her hand, Danielle said, “J.W.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The initials are J.W.”

  The chief frowned. “How did you know that? There’s no way you saw the initials.”

  “Because I’ve already met the spirit attached to the body you found. It’s Jack Winters, Walt’s business partner who disappeared with their money at the same time the Eva Aphrodite went missing. He’s the one I saw on the boat, the one I talked to. This is his ring. I saw it on him—the spirit him.” Danielle handed the small bag back to the chief.

  “Did Walt murder his business partner?”

  Danielle let out a groan. “Don’t go there chief.”

  “Obviously, there is nothing I can do to Walt. I just worry about you and Lily.”

  Danielle stood up. “I’m going to figure this out and you can stop worrying.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Danielle pulled up in front of Marie’s house and parked her car. After the chief had left that morning, Danielle had asked herself how she could prove to the chief that he was wrong about last night’s dream hop—that Walt hadn’t written Thelma’s script. Unfortunately, the chief was right. The dream hop could have been entirely of Walt’s making. It was impossible to prove otherwise.

  The only thing she might be able to prove was the possibility of that type of dream hop—one where a spirit replays an unedited version of the past. There was only one way Danielle could prove the possibility; Marie needed to confirm Walt’s claim that he had visited her in a dream to test his theory. If Marie recalled the dream he had described, Danielle would use that information to try to convince the chief to see it her way.

  Danielle knew Walt was telling the truth. Never for a moment did she ever consider the possibility Walt was involved with those people’s deaths. As for having an affair with Thelma—she understood that was possible. When married to Lucas, Danielle never imagined for a moment he would have an affair. She had been wrong.

  However, the visit to the speakeasy convinced her Walt was telling the truth. Perhaps the chief didn’t trust Walt; she did.

  “I’m glad you stopped by,” Marie told Danielle when she led her into the living room a few minutes later. Danielle had called Marie before coming over, which explained the hot pot of tea sitting on the coffee table along with two empty teacups, and a platter of cookies.

  Danielle took a seat on the sofa. “I wanted to tell you about Emma Jackson.”

  “I already heard.” Marie picked up the teapot.

  “You did?”

  Marie filled the two cups with tea. She then picked up one with its saucer, and handed it to Danielle. “Yes. Mathew called me this morning, right after you called.”

  “I guess there won’t be a funeral.” Danielle sipped her tea.

  Marie sat on a chair facing the sofa, holding her cup of tea, its saucer sitting on her lap. “You know, after your open house, Emma and I became rather good friends. We would talk on the phone every day.”

  “I guess she went peacefully.”

  “Yes. That’s how I want to go. Of course, after Adam gets married.”

  Danielle laughed. “Then you’re going to live forever!”

  “You may be right.” Marie picked up the platter of cookies and offered one to Danielle.

  “By the way, I met Jolene Carmichael yesterday at the museum.”

  “Really? I knew she was back in town. Millie mentioned they were going to try and get her to fill a board vacancy.”

  “Well, we didn’t exactly hit it off.” Danielle nibbled on the cookie.

  “Jolene could be a little opinionated, from what I recall.”

  Danielle went on to tell Marie about yesterday’s visit to the museum. When she was finished, Marie set her teacup and saucer on the coffee table while spouting a few tsk tsk tsks. “I don’t blame you for not donating the emerald right now. Ungrateful bunch, if you ask me.”

  “To be honest, the rest of them were pretty nice, and I did feel bad about it. But I’m just not sure how I feel about them selling the emerald. Maybe they could have made their case, but I’m not really sure they intended to be upfront with me. If Jolene hadn’t said something, would they have?”

  “I thought you just said they were nice?”

  “Well, they were. Just not sure how forthright they were.”

  Marie leaned forward and patted Danielle’s hand. “Now perhaps you understand why I avoid getting too involved with that group.”

  “You know, they talked with Lily about having her do some educational programs for the museum with the area schools. But when Lily went down there to talk to them about it, nothing really came of it aside from the fact they hit her up for a donation.”

  Marie gave Danielle a knowing nod. “It’s that settlement Lily got, from Stoddard’s estate. Impossible to keep things like that secret in this little town.”

  “Then I suppose I did the right thing. I’ll loan the emerald to the museum for the exhibit. At least for the time being.”

  “That’s probably for the best, dear.”

  Danielle shifted in her seat, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs. Licking her lips, she looked over at Marie. “After yesterday’s visit to the museum, and the way they’re so caviler with the truth regarding Walt Marlow’s death—well—I dreamt about him last night.”

  “You dreamt about Walt Marlow?” Marie’s face broke out into a grin. “What was the dream about?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. We were sitting in the library together—reading. Yes, we were reading,” she lied.

  “Now that you mention it, I dreamt about Walt Marlow, not that long ago.”

  “You did?”

  Marie nodded. “Not sure why I dreamt about him. He looked just like he did in his portrait, yet perhaps better looking. I remember mother telling me he was a handsome man. Such a shame he died at such a young age. It was really an odd dream.”

  “Odd how?”

  “We were in my parent’s house—the one Ian lives in, across from you. I was just a baby.”

  “You were a baby in the dream?” Danielle asked.

  Marie smiled. “Yes and no. I was as I am now. But there was also a baby in the dream, and the baby was me. Walt was there. Actually, two Walt Marlows.”

  “Two?”

  Marie laughed. “Are you sure you want to hear about an old woman’s dream?”

  Danielle leaned forward and set her teacup and saucer on the coffee table. “Oh yes! I really do.”

  Marie laughed again and then continued. “It reminded me a little of Dickens’ Christmas Carol, where the ghost takes Scrooge back to see his past. In this case, I was Scrooge and Walt was the ghost. My father was there, sitting on the sofa, holding a baby—me—in his arms. I knew it was me. The way they were talking, I could tell it was the first time Walt had seen me. My mother walked into the room and asked Father if he was going to let Walt hold me. Walt’s expression was priceless. Fo
r a moment, I imagined he was going to leap from the sofa. He told Father, ‘Babies scare me,’” Marie laughed.

  “Then what happened?”

  “I wanted to know why I was there, watching this, I started asking Walt, the Walt by my side not the Walt sitting on the sofa with my father, why we were there. And then, well, then I woke up.”

  “Interesting,” Danielle murmured.

  “I suppose I understand the dream; I’d heard that story from both of my parents a dozen times.”

  “What story?”

  “After I was born and Walt Marlow saw me for the first time, my mother asked him if he wanted to hold me, and he looked appalled at the idea.” Marie laughed again. “He told my parents babies scared him. My mother often wondered how he would have been as a father, had he ever had children of his own.”

  “I think he would have been a good father,” Danielle murmured.

  “You know what’s peculiar?” Marie asked.

  “What?”

  “I normally forget my dreams right after I wake up. But I can still remember this one clearly, every detail.”

  “Some dreams are like that.”

  “Perhaps. Silly dream, though. Not sure what it meant, if anything. Was there some significance to Walt and me making a Dickens-like appearance, showing up in an old story my parents used to tell me? Or had I simply eaten ice cream too late that night?”

  It was lunchtime when Danielle returned to Marlow House. She found Joanne vacuuming in the parlor. The moment Danielle walked in the room, Joanne turned off the vacuum.

  “I thought I’d clean up in here while everyone is out,” Joanne explained.

  “So you’re alone?” Except of course for Walt—and Max.

  “Yes, and enjoying the solitude. That Mrs. Sterling certainly has a lot to say.”

  Danielle chuckled. “She does. I’ll leave you to your solitude; I need to look for something in the attic.”

  “I imagine you’ll find Max up there,” Joanne said right before she turned the vacuum back on and returned to her work.

  “I’ve been wondering why the chief was here, and where you took off to,” Walt said when Danielle entered the attic a few minutes later.

  “Stella mentioned that when she and her husband were down at the beach looking at the Eva Aphrodite, the police pulled a trunk from the ship, and for some reason she thought there was a body inside. Or at least the remains of one.”

  “Yes. So?”

  “She was right. And I think I know who it was.” Danielle took a seat on the sofa and looked at Walt who remained standing by the spotting scope at the window.

  “Who?”

  “Jack.”

  “Jack? How would his body get onboard?”

  “Apparently you were wrong. Jack didn’t run off, he was on that boat when all those people were killed. And he was killed too.”

  Shaking his head in disbelief, Walt walked from the window and took a seat next to Danielle on the sofa.

  “From what Jack said, he wasn’t on the boat when he died. For some reason his spirit went there. Maybe he can’t remember how he died, but wouldn’t he remember getting on the boat before he was murdered?” Walt asked.

  “Perhaps he was killed somewhere else. Brought to the boat in the trunk. The chief speculates he was shot in the chest, since they found a bullet on the bottom of the trunk, right below his rib cage.”

  “Why are you so sure it’s Jack? I’d have to assume that after all this time, all that’s left of him are his skeletal remains.”

  “There was fabric left from his clothes—blue pinstripe.”

  “Not so uncommon,” Walt noted.

  “True. But he was also wearing a ring. A Masonic ring, with the initials J.W.”

  Walt let out a low whistle and sat back in the sofa, absorbing all that Danielle was telling him. “He was killed on the boat.”

  “Why do you say that?” Danielle asked.

  “I just don’t see how someone could get a trunk onboard—or why they would. It doesn’t make sense. We’re talking about a cruise where our passengers return within 24 hours.”

  “Was there a trunk onboard?”

  Walt considered the question a moment. “Yes.”

  “Which probably means Jack was killed onboard, like the rest of them. But why was he there?” Danielle asked.

  Walt stood up and waved his hand, summonsing a lit cigar. “Perhaps he was meeting Thelma there, which would explain why he didn’t tell me he was going out on the boat.”

  “Why would he meet Thelma there? Her husband was on the boat.”

  Walt turned to Danielle and arched his brow. “If you’ll recall, Thelma made it perfectly clear what her intentions were should I join them on the Eva Aphrodite.”

  “But she asked you about going on a private cruise at a later date.”

  Walt shook his head. “That was after she asked—in her coy way—if I would be on the Eva Aphrodite when they were. It was pretty clear to me; she was more than willing for us to slip away for an illicit rendezvous while her husband was onboard. The yacht had plenty of rooms for someone to find a quiet place, away from the rest of the crew and passengers for an illicit meeting. And when I turned her down, she focused her attention on Jack.”

  “Why wouldn’t he have told you about going out on the boat that day? Why keep it a secret? After all, you were with him when they took off together.”

  “True. But Jack also knew I didn’t approve of mixing that type of pleasure with business. We didn’t need that kind of grief should Howard happen upon Jack and his wife, especially onboard my boat where Jack’s a partner in the business venture. No. If Jack did something that reckless, he wouldn’t have told me.”

  “I suppose I should go down and talk to him.”

  With a wave of his hand, the cigar vanished. Walt looked at Danielle with a solemn expression. “Please tell Jack to come see me. This changes everything. Tell him I want to apologize.”

  “Apologize?”

  “For thinking he took off with that money. I’ll be honest, I feel awful about that. All these years, imagining he had betrayed our friendship that way. I should have looked into it more.”

  “So what happened to the money? You said it wasn’t where he normally kept it hidden.”

  “I don’t know. But if he went out on that boat, then he must have moved it like he said. It may still be out there somewhere. Maybe even across the street.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sadie’s wet nose persistently nudged Lily’s left arm. Sitting in the passenger seat of Ian’s car, Lily glanced back at the dog. “No Sadie. This isn’t for you.”

  The golden retriever stood on the floorboard, squeezed into the narrow space behind Ian and Lily’s seats. Her butt moved with her tail, repetitively bumping the back of Ian’s car seat. Sadie wanted what Lily had on her lap: a sack of hamburgers they were bringing home from the local drive through.

  “Sadie, on the back seat,” Ian snapped.

  Letting out a defeated whimper, Sadie climbed onto the back seat and lay down, her chin resting on her front paws. She continued to stare forward, looking into the opening between the front seats, her attention focused on what she knew was on Lily’s lap.

  Glancing over at Marlow House as Ian pulled into his driveway, Lily said, “Looks like Dani’s home. I wonder if I should have asked her if she wanted us to pick her up something.”

  “She probably ate while she was out,” Ian said as he parked the car and turned off the ignition.

  When they walked into Ian’s house a few moments later, Sadie lost interest in what was in the paper sacks. Instead, she rushed inside, headed for the living room, and started barking.

  Ian followed his dog into the house and stood by the entrance to the living room. He watched as Sadie stared at the back wall, barking and wagging her tail. “Sometimes that dog does the craziest things. What does she think she’s barking at?”

  Lily walked into the living room and set the sack
s of food on the coffee table. She watched Sadie, who was now sitting down, her tail wagging as she continued to stare at the blank wall. “Has she been doing that a lot lately?”

  “Just the last couple of days. I wonder, do you think we have mice in the walls or something?”

  Still staring at Sadie, Lily shrugged and muttered under her breath, “Or something.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Ian turned and headed for the bathroom, shaking his head while muttering, “Crazy dog.”

  Lily walked to Sadie and stood by her side. Staring at the spot holding the dog’s attention, Lily reached down and patted Sadie’s neck. “Whatcha see girl? Hmm…” Lily smiled. “Is that you Jack? Have you been hanging out over here?”

  When Danielle arrived at the site of the Eva Aphrodite, she was surprised to discover there was no longer a police car parked by the street, nor did there seem to be anyone guarding the area. The wreckage remained taped off, yet one section had come unfastened and flapped flag-like along the sand. Notices to keep off the boat were posted along the lower section of the hull. Those were new; she hadn’t seen them the last time she had been to the wreckage site.

  Standing some twenty feet from the bow, she looked up, searching for Jack along the upper deck. Raising her right hand to her brow, she used it to shade her eyes from the sunshine as she looked for him.

  A flash of light along a section of remaining railing on the upper deck caught her attention. Focusing on the area, she watched as a faint image of a person began to materialize. To her surprise, the transparent image was not Jack. It was Thelma Templeton, staring down at her.

  Startled, Danielle gasped and took a step back, her eyes never leaving the ghostly image. In the next moment Howard Templeton appeared. He stood next to his wife, and then another one appeared and another. Lined up along the top deck were transparent images of what Danielle imagined were once the passengers and crew of the Eva Aphrodite’s last voyage. Motionless, they stared down at her. Just as suddenly as they appeared—they vanished.

  “Rather unnerving, isn’t it?” a voice from behind asked.