The Ghost and the Baby

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “Like my husband said, if you have something to say, say it. But if you are going to come onto our property and treat me or my husband with disrespect, I am going to ask you to leave, and if you don’t, we will call the police,” Danielle told her.

  “Yes, I have something to say!” Pearl hissed. “If you continue to illegally operate Marlow House as a bed and breakfast, I am going to take you to court. And if the city of Frederickport refuses to enforce their laws, then I am going to sue them too!”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about. Marlow House Bed and Breakfast no longer has a business license. We can’t—and we aren’t operating a business here anymore. So I really don’t know what all this is about,” Danielle said sweetly.

  “Oh, really? Then can you explain why two teenagers just knocked on my door trying to sell me raffle tickets? And according to them, the prize is a week at Marlow House Bed and Breakfast.”

  Danielle shrugged. “The girls misspoke. The prize is a week at Marlow House—not Marlow House Bed and Breakfast.”

  “Are you trying to be funny?” Pearl snapped.

  “Funny? No. Marlow House Bed and Breakfast is no longer in business. We can’t operate without a business license.”

  Pearl glared at Danielle. “You’re talking double-talk. I don’t care what you call it—Marlow House, Marlow House Bed and Breakfast, Marlow House B and B, Marlow House Motel, or Marlow House Flophouse, you can’t be operating a house in a residential neighborhood as a motel.”

  “Mrs. Huckabee, if you were to have houseguests stay with you for a week, would you consider yourself a motel?” Walt asked calmly.

  “What a ridiculous question. Of course not. I don’t charge my houseguests to stay with me.”

  “And we are not charging the winners of the raffle to stay here,” Danielle said calmly.

  “But you’re selling raffle tickets!” Pearl argued.

  Danielle shook her head. “No. The high school is selling the raffle tickets; we have just donated the prize.”

  “Double-talk!” Pearl shouted before turning abruptly, her back now to Walt and Danielle, as she hurried down the walkway to the sidewalk.

  “I could trip her, but I won’t,” Walt said as he and Danielle stood in the open door watching Pearl stomp away.

  “That’s because you are a gentleman,” Danielle said primly as she slammed the door shut. She then turned to Walt and said with a grin, “A gigolo, but still a gentleman.”

  Thirty minutes later Pearl stood at the window of Mrs. Keats at the city office.

  “Umm, Mrs. Huckabee, what can I do for you?” Mrs. Keats asked.

  “You do remember me?” Pearl asked sharply.

  How could I forget? Mrs. Keats thought, but instead smiled weakly and said, “Yes. How can I help you today?”

  “I’d like to know how is it that Marlow House continues to operate as a bed and breakfast if it no longer has a business license?”

  “Umm, I’m not sure what you’re talking about. Are you saying Danielle is taking guests? I find that very hard to believe.”

  “Do you have a daughter named Cindy?”

  Mrs. Keats frowned. “What does Cindy have to do with this?”

  “Did you buy raffle tickets for spring break at Marlow House?”

  Mrs. Keats let out a sigh and smiled. “Oh, is that what this is about? Danielle is no longer running the B and B. In fact, she told me they had been considering closing for some time. The high school is raising money for their art department by selling raffle tickets, and Danielle has generously donated the rooms in Marlow House for spring break as the prize.”

  “But people will be staying there. It’s no different than operating a bed and breakfast,” Pearl insisted.

  “Oh, but it is. Danielle—you—in fact, anyone on Beach Drive is welcome to let whoever they want stay in their bedrooms, within reason. Now, if you start charging for that privilege, then we need to talk business license. But there is nothing illegal about the raffle, or with Danielle donating her rooms to the winners…Now…is there anything else?” Mrs. Keats smiled sweetly.

  Pearl stared dumbly at the woman. It took a moment for it all to register. Finally, Pearl let out a grunt and said, “If there is nothing I can do about it, I suppose I should be grateful it is just for that one week.” She turned abruptly and stomped out of the office.

  “Who was that? She seemed upset,” one of Mrs. Keats’s coworkers asked.

  “Remember when Danielle Marlow came in the other day and talked to our supervisor about doing more Marlow House raffles for other charities?” Mrs. Keats asked.

  “Yes. I love the idea. Why?”

  “The lady who just left, she isn’t going to love it.”

  Twelve

  It was the last Monday in March, and Walt and Danielle were on their way to Adam Nichols’s office. Sitting in the passenger seat of the Packard, Danielle leaned back against the car door and watched Walt as he drove the vintage vehicle down the road. She was amazed at how natural and comfortable he appeared—not remotely apprehensive behind the wheel.

  Today he wore the denims Lily and Ian had given him for Christmas. But instead of the flannel shirt that had come with the pants, Walt wore a pressed white long-sleeved shirt and leather vest. He reminded her a bit of a cowboy in the clothes. But not one who rode the range—the kind who sat in some Texas boardroom making a fortune off oil rigs or cattle ranches. She had found the vest in a vintage shop. And while it wasn’t the type Walt the spirit had worn with his three-piece pin-striped suits, it reminded Danielle of him. Now all he needed was a pair of cowboy boots and hat.

  “You’re staring at me,” Walt said with a chuckle, his eyes darting to Danielle and then back down the road.

  “I like looking at you.”

  “That’s supposed to be my line.”

  “You like looking at yourself?” Danielle teased.

  Walt grinned. “You know what I meant.”

  Danielle let out a satisfied sigh and repositioned herself in the seat, now leaning back and looking out the front windshield. “It is going to be nice having guests again next week. While I’ve enjoyed having the house to ourselves, I’ve missed the bed and breakfast.”

  “I’m surprised to say I have too. Never imagined I would feel that way when you first told me what you planned to do with Marlow House.”

  “You were dead at the time. What did you know?”

  Walt chuckled. “You have a point.”

  Danielle let out another sigh.

  “What’s with all the sighs?” Walt asked as he turned down Main Street on the way to Adam’s office.

  “I keep thinking of Pearl and what makes her tick. I’d hoped Marie knew something about her family.” After Marie had told Danielle and Walt about what had happened to the Morton twins, Danielle had hoped she would be able to tell them something about Pearl’s family, who had moved into the house after it had been sold. Marie could not recall the family, yet she suggested someone who might know something—Millie Samson.

  Walt pulled the Packard up in front of the museum and parked.

  “What are we doing here?” Danielle asked.

  “Marie told us Millie Samson might know something,” Walt reminded her. “While I’m not sure learning about Pearl’s family is going to help us deal with our neighbor, I know your curiosity is driving you crazy.”

  Making no attempt to get out of the car, Danielle glanced over to the museum. “She might not even be here.”

  “Or she might be,” Walt reminded her.

  “I don’t want her to think I just dropped by the museum to pump her for information on our neighbor.”

  “I’m sure you can come up with a good story,” Walt said as he opened his car door. “You’re good at that.”

  “True,” Danielle conceded as she got out of the vehicle.

  They started toward the museum. Danielle paused a moment and pointed to a car parked nearby. “Looks like we’re in luck. That’s Millie’s car.
”

  “Hello, Danielle, Walt,” Millie greeted them several minutes later when they walked into the museum gift shop. The elderly woman stood behind the counter, affixing price tags on newly arrived inventory.

  “Afternoon, Millie. We were on our way to Adam’s office, and I remembered those Marlow House Bed and Breakfast brochures the museum handed out for me, and thought I’d pick them up.”

  “Oh yes, I was going to call you and see what you wanted me to do with them.” Millie reached under the counter and retrieved a stack of brochures. “I didn’t want to just throw them away. I thought you might get that business license worked out and reopen.”

  “Not sure about that,” Danielle said, taking the stack of brochures from Millie.

  “It really is a shame you had to close. I heard your new neighbor is the one who caused such a ruckus.”

  “She is definitely opposed to a B and B in the neighborhood,” Danielle said. “Umm…I can’t recall who mentioned it, but someone said you knew Pearl’s family.”

  “Pearl?” Millie frowned.

  “Pearl Huckabee, our new neighbor. The one opposed to the B and B,” Danielle explained.

  Millie shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever met her.”

  “From what I understand, the house has been in her family for years. They bought it from the Mortons—the ones who owned the funeral home.”

  “Really? Yes, I did know that family. I can’t recall their name. But I know it wasn’t Huckabee. I was about twelve when they moved into the house. The wife was in Mother’s bridge group. She had two daughters about my age. Her husband was a traveling salesman.” Millie paused a moment, chuckled and shook her head.

  “What’s funny?” Danielle asked.

  “I didn’t really know the girls very well; they went to a private Catholic school. But I remember going to the beach with them once—with our mothers. When I was alone with the girls, they told me their father had died.” Millie chuckled again.

  Danielle arched her brows. “Umm…and that was funny?”

  Millie shook her head quickly. “Oh, no! I guess that did sound strange. No, it was what my mother told me later when I got home that night. She said their father had not died—he had run away with some woman and never came home from one of his business trips. I always thought that so odd the girls would rather say their father had died than their parents had divorced. But they were Catholic; maybe that was why. I am assuming the parents got a divorce. Although, it is entirely possible they stayed married. I know his wife never remarried.”

  “Did the daughters seriously believe he had died?” Danielle asked.

  Millie shook her head. “Not according to my mother. But that’s what the family told people. Of course, my mother knew the truth.”

  “Perhaps that house has some kind of curse,” Walt suggested.

  “Curse?” Millie frowned.

  “From what I understand, the previous owner was jilted by her fiancé when he ran off with her sister. And then the same thing basically happened to the next owner,” Walt explained.

  “Oh my, I’ve never thought of that before, but you are right!” Millie said. “And the Morton twins…” Millie shook her head. “You have no idea how all that affected my poor husband.”

  “Your husband?” Danielle asked. Marie had told her about the connection between Millie and the Mortons, but Danielle couldn’t tell Millie that.

  “My husband’s older brother was in love with the Morton girl who ran away. When she took off with another boy, he was devastated. He killed himself.”

  “That’s tragic,” Danielle said.

  “Bruce never believed it was suicide. He insisted Lewis would never have killed himself over a girl,” Millie told them. “Of course, Bruce was just a young boy at the time, and he idolized his older brother.”

  “I’m assuming Bruce was your husband?” Walt asked.

  Millie nodded. “Yes.”

  Walt studied Millie a moment before asking, “Did they suspect foul play?”

  Millie shook her head. “No. He died after his car went off Pilgrim’s Point. The police believed he intentionally drove off the cliff, but my husband never believed it. It drove him crazy for people to think his brother had killed himself. And it was devastating for my in-laws.”

  “Why did the police believe it was intentional and not an accident?” Walt asked.

  “There was a witness who saw the car drive off the cliff. They claimed it hadn’t been speeding. And there were no skid marks at the scene, which substantiated the witness’s claim.”

  “Maybe he had been drinking,” Danielle suggested.

  “No. The coroner report said he hadn’t been drinking. Bruce suggested he fell asleep at the wheel, but considering the time of the accident, the police didn’t buy that scenario. Plus, he had made quite a scene several days earlier when he found out Daisy—that was the twin he was in love with—had taken off with someone else. He refused to believe it was true. The police felt that when he realized it was true, he snapped and couldn’t deal with it and took his life.”

  “Do you think he committed suicide?” Danielle asked.

  Millie smiled sadly. “I feel disloyal to my husband to suggest it was suicide. But I’m afraid there really is no other explanation, especially if you look objectively at all the evidence. And my husband was looking at it all through the eyes of a very young and naive boy who had his older brother on a pedestal and couldn’t imagine him ever doing something like that. Bruce used to say, Lewis would never do that to me. He always promised to be here for me.”

  “So tragic…” Danielle murmured.

  “Yes. Yes, it was.” Millie took a deep breath and then smiled at Danielle. “Back to your neighbor, you say she might be related to my mother’s friend?”

  “Pearl claims the house has been in her family for a long time, so I would assume so. I heard she has some relatives who live in town, but they aren’t on friendly terms.”

  “Well, if she is related to my mother’s friend—it could be Ruby Crabtree,” Millie suggested.

  “Ruby Crabtree, the one who owns the Seahorse Motel?” Danielle asked.

  “Yes. Ruby and I talked about it once. This was a number of years ago. I don’t recall how the conversation came up, but we were talking about Mother’s friend whose husband had run off, yet preferred to pretend he was dead, and Ruby told me the woman was her aunt. Ruby’s father was the woman’s brother, but they had been estranged for years, up until Ruby’s father passed away.”

  “Her aunt?” Danielle frowned. “Considering Ruby’s age, I would assume your mother’s friend would be more Ruby’s grandmother’s age.”

  “Ruby’s father was much older than her mother—old enough to be Ruby’s grandfather.”

  “Do you know if Ruby had ownership in the house?” Walt asked.

  “The house next door to you?” Millie asked.

  “Yes,” Danielle answered for Walt. “From what we understand, Pearl bought the house from some relatives. According to what we’ve heard, they didn’t all get along. I have to wonder if Ruby is one of the cousins who sold the house to Pearl.”

  Millie shrugged. “I seriously doubt it. Like I said, they had been estranged for years, up until the time Mother’s friend passed away. I would assume that when she died, she would leave the house to her two daughters, not to a niece—especially a niece she had nothing to do with. According to Ruby, she really didn’t know her aunt. And she certainly didn’t mention inheriting any property from her. I would assume your neighbor Pearl is probably a granddaughter of Mother’s friend, considering her age.”

  “If Ruby isn’t one of Pearl’s Frederickport relatives who owned a share of the property, I wonder who it is?” Danielle said.

  “You did say you were on your way to Adam Nichols’s office. I’m sure he knows—or can easily find out, considering he is a real estate broker,” Millie reminded them.

  Thirteen

  Marie decided to follow Eva’
s example and conjure up her own imaginary chair when needed. At Marlow House, alone with Walt and Danielle, there was no problem utilizing her energy to pull out a chair for her to use, but in Adam’s office, it would be a problem for her grandson if he started seeing chairs moving about. Yet, even when alone at Marlow House with the mediums, Eva did not have the luxury of repositioning a real chair, because her energy was used on glitter and glam, and the Universe had not seen fit to help her move tangible objects. Marie had no idea why she had been given the gift—assuming it was a gift—but she was most appreciative.

  One advantage of an imaginary chair, it could float in the air, allowing Marie to look down at the living people while avoiding the annoyance of one walking through her—or sitting on her. She hated when that happened.

  Looking down at Adam, she watched as he sat at his computer keyboard. He was alone in the office—or so he thought. His assistant, Leslie, had gone to the post office, leaving Adam to his own devices. Since most of his work was caught up, he had idle time on his hands, and Marie knew what that meant.

  Instead of interrupting the power to his computer when he attempted to visit one of those websites, Marie had stumbled on a new tactic, using her energy to intercept Adam’s search and replace it with her own. Instead of scantily clad women appearing on the computer monitor, images of families with young children, men with babies, and fathers frolicking with their children popped up on the screen. This perplexed Adam even more than the power going out. Marie saw it as her campaign to change Adam’s mind about having children.

  Adam practically flew out of his desk chair a few minutes later when Walt and Danielle came walking into his office with a cheery hello. Both Marie and Adam had been so focused on the computer—Marie manipulating it and Adam trying to figure out what was going on—that neither was prepared for the visitors.

  Both Danielle and Walt stopped in their tracks at the doorway when they spied Marie sitting in an invisible chair floating over Adam’s desk. It was a peculiar sight and took great strength on Danielle’s part not to comment on the spectacle.