The Ghost from the Sea

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “Child, do you really expect to go back and listen to every conversation, of every person, who was ever in the diner at the same time I was? And maybe it wasn’t when I was at the diner. Maybe it was when I was at the beach, in the store, at the—”

  “Okay, okay, you’re right. That would be insane. We should isolate it to, let’s say, the week or two leading up to the storm and focus on anyone connected to the people who were killed.”

  “I told you, I don’t remember seeing any of those people.”

  After a moment of silence, Danielle said, “Well, I just found out Thelma Templeton, one of the women killed on the boat, was having an affair with an actor, and they broke it off a couple weeks before the murders. He did threaten her life. Although, I can’t imagine he would kill everyone on board that yacht just to keep their affair a secret.”

  “An actor?”

  “Anthony…I didn’t get his last name. But he was once married to Eva Thorndike.”

  “I know who that was.”

  “You knew him?”

  “I knew who he was. He used to come into the diner from time to time. The girls would fall all over him.”

  “We could try him. Focus on any dates he came into the diner, right before the Eva Aphrodite went missing.”

  In the next moment, Danielle found herself sitting back in the Bluebell Diner with Emma by her side. They occupied the same table they had been at during their last dream hop visit. They weren’t alone. A handsome man sat across from Danielle, reading his menu.

  “That’s Anthony,” Emma explained.

  “Oh, I see what you mean. Eye candy, but a little sleazy.” Danielle noted the heavily oiled slicked-back, coal-black hair and pencil mustache. “He could use a good shampoo…and a razor to get rid of that thing on his lip.”

  “That’s how they wore it back then.”

  “I suppose,” Danielle said with a shrug.

  “The other one will be here in a moment,” Emma explained.

  “Other one?”

  “The man he had breakfast with.”

  Danielle glanced at the remaining empty chair. “Please tell me his friend will be taking that chair, and not mine.”

  Emma laughed. “Yes, I was more careful about that. Sorry.”

  As Emma promised, a man walked through the diner’s door a moment later. Emma nudged Danielle and pointed to the man. Looking up, Danielle watched as he glanced around the room, spied Anthony, and then proceeded to walk in their direction.

  Danielle’s eyes widened. “I know that man!”

  “You know him? How do you know him?”

  “It’s Ephraim Presley, the man who murdered Harvey Crump—the boy who haunted Presley House!”

  Emma shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Ephraim Presley had worked for Eva Thorndike’s parents as a caretaker, when she was still alive. He was also her ex-husband’s accomplice in the original Thorndike jewel heist, back when the first set of diamonds and emeralds were removed from Eva’s necklace and replace with fake stones.

  Harvey Crump, a friend of Ephraim Presley’s twin sons, had stumbled upon Ephraim’s share of the jewel heist. That discovery led to Harvey’s premature death. Danielle had witnessed Harvey’s murder in a previous dream hop.

  Ephraim Presley was also Heather Donovan’s great-grandfather. She had stumbled upon the sins of her ancestor along with one of the emeralds he had taken. That emerald she had given to Danielle, in her attempt to set things right. It was the same emerald now on display at the Frederickport Museum.

  “What did you want to see me about?” Ephraim asked when he reached their table and sat down on the only empty chair.

  “I have a job for us. This is a big one.” Anthony stopped talking when Emma the waitress approached the table and poured them coffee. The men hastily gave her their orders for breakfast, and when she left the table, they resumed their conversation.

  “How big?”

  “This one’s all cash. You won’t have to worry about finding a buyer for any stones. But you can’t be squeamish about putting some bullets through a few heads.”

  Ephraim laughed. “For enough money, I’d plug my own mother.”

  “I don’t think he had a mother,” Danielle muttered, remembering what she had once read about Heather’s great-grandfather.

  “When, where, who?” Ephraim asked.

  “Saturday night, on the Eva Aphrodite.”

  “Marlow’s yacht?”

  Anthony nodded. “We can’t leave any witnesses, so you have to be willing to finish the job. We have to kill everyone on that boat.”

  “That’s a lot of people. How do you expect just the two of us to pull that off?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Good lord,” Danielle gasped. “He doesn’t even flinch at the idea of slaughtering all those innocent people, just wants to know how they’re going to pull it off.”

  “How much money?” Ephraim asked.

  When Anthony told him, Danielle let out a low whistle.

  “And the perk is, we can keep any of the booty from the ship. Divide up any cash, jewelry, anything of value.”

  “Who’s paying for this and why?” Ephraim asked.

  “I can’t say.”

  Ephraim started to stand up. “Forget it then.”

  Anthony reached up and grabbed Ephraim’s arm. “Wait, hear me out. I need you on this one.”

  Begrudgingly, Ephraim sat back down.

  Nervous, Anthony glanced around the diner and lowered his voice. “If I tell you, you can’t let anyone know. I’m being blackmailed.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Jogging down the beach from where he had parked his car, Kurt Jefferson glanced out to sea. For a moment, he imagined his boat anchored out beyond the surf and that he was diving into the ocean and swam to shore. He could just see himself in his diving gear glistening as he emerged from the water, the moon lighting his way. A covert op with a pot of gold as his reward. Kurt wondered if he had been watching too much television.

  It was a long shot, he knew. But if he managed to pull it off, he would be rich beyond his wildest dreams. What was the worse that could happen? He could get arrested for breaking and entering—his first offense. Chances are, he would get a slap on the wrist and probation. It was worth the risk.

  This morning was just simply a reconnaissance mission. He wanted to get the lay of the land, check out the target. When he did return, he doubted it would be by boat, or that he would be wearing his diving gear. It just seemed more dramatic to imagine it under that scenario.

  He was certain this was the right house. According to the stories, it was the oldest house along this stretch of the beach and was located directly across the street from Marlow House. It was owned by the Hemmings family. According to the stories, Marlow’s partner had been renting a room from Hemming when he went missing—along with their money. Of course, now everyone knew the partner hadn’t run away with the money; he had been murdered onboard the Marlow yacht along with all those other people.

  Kurt wondered if it was possible that after all these years, that money—those gold coins—were still hidden in the Hemming house. From what he had heard on the radio when they interviewed that guy from the museum, Marlow was on record saying his partner had kept their money with him at Hemming’s, and when he disappeared so did the money. Perhaps the partner had simply left the money hidden somewhere in the Hemming house, when he decided to go out on the yacht and never got around to telling his partner he decided to go party. Some party. Everyone ended up dead.

  Walking along the beach, Kurt reached the point between the Hemming house and its neighbor to the north. From there, he had a clear view of Marlow House. To his surprise, he spied a man and golden retriever walking through the gates of Marlow House. When checking on the status of the Hemming property, he had learned some author had rented the place—and this renter had a golden retriever. He had also learned the man dated one of t
he women who lived across the street at Marlow House. Could this be the same man?

  Kurt smiled to himself. He could simply knock on the back door of the Hemming house. If no dog came barking to the back door, he would know the coast was clear. But if a dog did come barking and the renter answered the door, he could pretend to be lost and ask some inane question, without raising any suspicions.

  Heather Donovan no longer jogged with her eyes closed. She had learned that lesson after she almost ran straight into the wreckage of the Eva Aphrodite. She listened to the music pulsating through the headphones as she pounded her way down the beach, her heart beating rapidly and her breathing labored. She had decided to push herself this morning. Exercise alleviated stress, and recently she had been experiencing too much stress. Even her essential oils weren’t helping.

  Just as Ian’s house came into view, she spied someone lurking around the back of the property. It wasn’t Ian. Instinctively dropping to the sand to make herself less obvious, Heather narrowed her eyes and watched the trespasser casing the property.

  He was now at the back door. She could see him looking up and down the beach. He turned in her direction. She could see his face. Holding her breath, she hugged the sand, grateful she hadn’t worn her purple jogging suit that morning. The tan sweat suit melted into her surroundings, camouflaging her from view. She watched as he went into the house.

  The smell of bacon woke her. Danielle opened her eyes. She yawned.

  “I wondered If you were going to sleep all morning,” Walt said from where he sat on the sofa.

  Danielle bolted up to a seating position and rubbed her eyes. “How long have you been sitting there?”

  “For a while,” Walt shrugged. “Ian’s here, helping Lily fix breakfast. I guess Joanne called in sick.”

  Danielle glanced at her iPhone. “She didn’t call me.”

  “I heard Lily say something about a text message.”

  Danielle picked up her phone from the nightstand and looked at it. “You’re right. Looks like Joanne sent us a group text message. I must have slept right through it. I wonder why Lily didn’t wake me up.”

  “Maybe she was just being nice. She and Ian have everything under control. I get the feeling that Ian is enjoying your guest.”

  “The mystery writer?”

  Walt nodded.

  Sitting up in bed, Danielle leaned against her headboard and looked at Walt. “Emma visited me last night.”

  “Again?”

  “I’m pretty sure Jack was being honest with you about paying off those loan sharks. It was just a coincidence. I don’t even think that’s what Emma was supposed to show me.”

  “Then what was it?”

  “What she showed me last night.” Danielle then went on to tell Walt about her most recent dream hop. Walt sat quietly, listening to Danielle tell him about seeing Anthony and Ephraim and how Anthony claimed he was being blackmailed.

  “The reason Jack doesn’t remember that night is that they drugged him. Or at least that was the plan they discussed at the Bluebell. They were going to pay Sally to slip something in Jack’s drink when he came over to see her that night. And then they’d use him to get on the boat, pretend he was drunk, not drugged, like they were all drinking buddies just out for some fun.”

  “And since Jack was my partner, no one would question it,” Walt said.

  “Their plan all along was to kill Jack once they got him to that cabin, hide the body. There was a second boat—they were going to board the Eva Aphrodite like pirates, once it was out to sea.”

  “And easier if they kill the crew before they board the ship,” Walt said, sounding a little ill.

  “Pretty much.”

  “Who was behind this? You said Anthony claimed he was being blackmailed.”

  “He never told Presley who was behind it, but he kept saying he would; he just had to make sure Presley was totally in. But whoever it was, he didn’t want anyone on the job knowing who was behind it.”

  “This explains what probably happened to Anthony,” Walt said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “From what I recall, he sort of disappeared after the Eva Aphrodite went missing. I never put the two together before.”

  “He went missing that night?”

  Walt shook his head. “No, he wasn’t killed that night. The reason I remember, he was going to be in a play that was scheduled to open the following week, but because of the storm—”

  “You’re talking about the storm the night the boat went missing?”

  Walt nodded. “Yes. It caused some damage to the theatre, delayed the opening. He was in the play the first night, and then I remember hearing he’d taken off—the stand in had to take his place. I never really thought much about it. Anthony was famous for just taking off.”

  “You think whoever was behind the murders killed him?”

  “If he really was the only one who knew the identity of the person or persons behind the murders, yes. Probably.”

  “I can understand someone arranging a hit, and then getting rid of the hitman—but why would someone go to an actor to arrange something like this?”

  “Anthony knew some pretty shady people. And I always suspected stealing the diamonds and emeralds from Eva’s necklace wasn’t his first, last, or even worst crime.”

  Danielle cringed. “It certainly wasn’t his worst.”

  “I’d like to know, who was really the target?” Walt wondered.

  “Eva’s ex was pretty damn cold. While it’s monstrous to murder innocent strangers in cold blood, he killed a woman he‘d been having an affair with. Someone he had been intimate with.”

  Walt chuckled. “Now you know how I felt.”

  Jolene Carmichael sat in the office of Steve Klein.

  “I’m sorry Jolene, I just don’t see how I can do it,” he apologized. “Like I explained last week, there simply isn’t enough equity left in your house.”

  “I have to get out from under that second, the interest is killing me. Can’t I just refinance?” she pleaded.

  “I’m sorry, Jolene. Really. I wish there was something I could do to help you. This deal with Clarence, it gutted the company, and aside from what you’re getting from Social Security, I don’t see how you could ever qualify for another loan.”

  “That was supposed to be my retirement! I loaned them the money to start the law firm; this isn’t fair. I should at least get the property.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s a matter for an attorney.”

  Ten minutes later, Jolene Carmichael drove away from the bank. She told herself to calm down. This wasn’t good for her blood pressure. Yet she couldn’t calm down. What was she going to do? It was all gone—and all because of Danielle Boatman. Boatman had been greedy, Jolene thought. Marlow House and some money wasn’t enough for Boatman; she had to have it all. It wasn’t as if Boatman had spent all those years tending to her aunt’s estate—making sure Marlow House was properly cared for—Clarence had done that. Perhaps he had overstepped the line by redirecting some of Breanna Boatman’s money, but did that sin warrant his death?

  Pulling over to the side of the road, Jolene parked the car and looked ahead blankly.

  “What am I going to do?” she asked aloud. “Why can’t I have some of Danielle Boatman’s luck and find a priceless neckless hidden in my floorboards?” It was then Jolene remembered the conversation she’d had at the museum with Ben, after his radio interview. The gold coins—did they still exist?

  Bill Jones flipped through his clipboard as he finished his cup of coffee. He shoved the now empty breakfast plate to the edge of the table and waited for the server to bring his bill. Looking through his job order, he rearranged the pages, placing them in a specific order to schedule his day. The next house he was going to was on the north side of town. The first house was one located on the same street as the Hemming house. There was a bathroom facet to replace; he had already picked up a new one.

  Looking at the order, Bill
paused a moment and looked up, staring absently into space. The work order made him think of the Hemming house—and of the gold coins that might be hidden there.

  Adam is full of it, he thought. He had known Adam most of his life and there was no way he wasn’t just as curious as Bill about the possibility of hidden treasure. From what Bill had since read after that fiasco with the Missing Thorndike, if Bill did happen upon the hidden gold—like when he was doing repairs at the rental—he could legally claim the gold under Oregon’s treasure trove laws. At least, he was pretty sure he could. Hell, he didn’t need Adam to do this. He didn’t need Adam at all.

  “Hey Carla, bring me my check!” Bill shouted to the server. He smiled to himself. I think I need to go check out Ian’s rental, make sure nothing’s broken.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Sally set me up?” Jack sounded heart broken. Walt had just repeated most of what Danielle had told him about what she had learned through her dream hop with Emma. The two old friends sat up in the attic on the sofa, while Sadie napped by their feet and Max perched on the windowsill, tail swishing back and forth, as the cat stared out the window.

  “From what Danielle overheard, I don’t think Sally knew they were going to kill you. Just use you to get on that boat.”

  “But wouldn’t she have known when I never came back and they did?”

  “I’m afraid they may have gotten rid of Sally.”

  “What do you mean?” Jack asked.

  “We all thought you and Sally ran off together. When I went looking for you at her place, she was gone.”

  “They killed her?” Jack asked.

  Walt shrugged. “That would be my guess. I never saw her again.”

  Jack let out a weary sigh and leaned back in the sofa. “I suppose that answers most of the questions. What happened to me, why I was on the boat.”

  “I still wonder what happened to our money. If they took you the way they said they were going to, at the motel—you wouldn’t have taken the money with you when you went to meet Sally, would you?”