by Bobbi Holmes
“Hmm, I guess not. Too bad, I hoped you could point me to Isabella’s room.”
Lily watched the maid for a few moments before taking off to explore the house. She expected to encounter more of the housekeeping staff on the first floor, but so far, the only one she had come across was the maid in the foyer. There was no one in the kitchen, or in the laundry room, or the billiard room, theatre room, dining room, or living room. Each room was immaculate, and if Lily didn’t know better, she would assume no one lived in the house.
The last room she came to was what appeared to be Mr. Gusarov’s study. She assumed the silver haired man sitting behind the desk was Stoddard Gusarov, and the attractive twenty-something woman behind him, rubbing his shoulders…was that his wife?
“I wish she didn’t have to stay here, Todd.” the young woman said as she massaged his shoulders. “When we were married I never considered a stranger would be living with us.”
“Darling…” Stoddard reached up and patted one of her hands. “I told you, she has to stay until she makes her new will.”
“I still don’t understand how you plan to do that!” The woman intensified the massage, digging into Stoddard’s shoulders with vigor.
“Darlene, not so rough!” Stoddard snapped. “Your nails are lethal!”
Darlene took a deep breath and gentled the massage. “But then you’ll send her away?”
“Yes, I told you I would. I’ve already located a sanitarium in Canada that will suit our needs. Of course, we can’t send her right away. She’ll stay here a while after she changes her will. After a month or so, then we can have her moved. I don’t want people to start asking questions.”
“A month or so?” Darlene groaned. “It would be a lot easier if she just died. Paying for a private sanitarium is going to cost us a fortune.”
“What a witch!” Lily gasped. “Poor Isabella.”
“I agree, it would be. If we’re lucky, that might happen after the will is changed.”
“You want her dead too? Your own niece?” Lily said angrily. She wished she’d learned to harness her energy because she wanted nothing more than to smash a hard object over their heads.
“You know Todd, if you send her to a private sanitarium there is always the chance that she could recover. Then what do we do?”
“I’ve thought about that. But, with what I’m paying she’ll never get beyond the sanatorium walls.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier if we…just say…slipped a pillow over her face?”
“Darlene!” Stoddard looked over his shoulder. “You want me to kill her?”
“She’s practically brain dead anyway,” Darlene insisted.
“I know, but kill her?”
“Do you realize how much trouble we’ll be in if someone finds out?”
“Yes, I know,” Stoddard said solemnly.
“Will you at least consider it? It doesn’t have to be painful. You would be doing her a favor.”
“Some favor,” Lily scoffed. “You people are nuts! I’m going to find Isabella, and then I’m going to see what I can do to get her out of this house!”
Lily abruptly left the room. Had Stoddard and his wife, Darlene, possessed Danielle’s gift, they would have seen what appeared to be a trail of smoke, leading from the study up the stairs to the second floor.
Once upstairs, Lily went from room to room, searching for Isabella. Like the rooms downstairs, each was immaculate, reminding Lily more of an upscale hotel than someone’s home.
“Where is everyone?” Lily asked aloud. “I can’t believe they have just one maid.”
She was about to go through a door to another room when it opened. A man dressed in white stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him. He started down the hall, away from Lily.
“Ah, jackpot!” Lily said. “If I’m not mistaken you’re a male nurse, which means our patient is in that room.”
A cellphone in the man’s pocket began to ring. He paused a moment, to answer it. “Я сказал тебе не называть меня на работе.”
“Whoa, what language is that?” Lily asked, watching the man disappear down the hall as he continued his cellphone conversation.
When the man turned a corner and was no longer in her sight, Lily moved into the room. Once inside, she paused a moment and looked around. It reminded her of a hospital room. Along the right wall was a hospital bed, and in it was a woman. She slept on her right side, her back to Lily.
“They certainly didn’t scrimp on anything.” Lily glanced around. “If I hadn’t overheard that conversation downstairs I’d assume—by the looks of this decked out hospital room—that your uncle is doing all he can to take care of you.”
Lily shook her head in disgust and slowly approached the bed. Looking down she said, “Oh, poor Isabella.”
The woman in the hospital bed wore a blue-gray gown. A bed sheet and a blanket covered the lower portion of her body. Bandages covered the top of her head, while wisps of reddish hair peeked out from the bandage. She was hooked up to an assortment of tubes, and an electric monitor near the bed kept track of her vitals.
Random beeps and chirps coming from the monitor broke the room’s eerie silence. Stepping closer to the bed, Lily looked down, the woman’s back still to her. Lily’s gaze moved over the body. She reached out to touch the sleeping form but paused a moment and then pulled back her hand.
“Isabella, I need to do this. I hope I can for both our sakes. If you can help me, then it will be easier for me to help you. I’ll find some way to get you away from here. Your aunt and uncle don’t have your best interests at heart. Well, at least I assume those people downstairs are your aunt and uncle. She looks young enough to be your kid sister. Why do some men do that, marry girls young enough to be their daughters?”
Lily closed her eyes and tried to focus, remembering all that Walt had taught her about going into a person’s dream. She stood there a few moments, her eyes closed, and nothing happened. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked down at the woman in the bed.
“Maybe I need to be looking at your face. I have a feeling the reason Walt couldn’t jump into the dream is because the photograph we were using wasn’t a good likeness. I can tell, even from this angle.”
Lily started to move around the bed but paused. She couldn’t help but notice the deep, red jagged scratches along the woman’s exposed left shoulder, undoubtedly the result of being dumped on the harsh desert floor and left to die.
“I hope they’re taking care of that,” Lily said, leaning closer to the injured area. “It looks a little infected.”
While taking a closer look at the shoulder, she noticed a horseshoe shaped scar on the woman’s forearm.
“That’s funny,” Lily murmured, her head cocked to one side in curiosity. “I have a scar just like that…in the same place.” She leaned closer. “Weird, I even have a freckle in the middle of the scar, just like you. Odd.” Lily shook her head and made her way around the bed, her eyes sweeping over the unconscious body.
Once on the other side of the bed, Lily looked down. A bandage wrapped around the comatose woman’s head, covering her eyes and skull. Her face, from her nose to her chin, was visible.
Lily stared down and frowned.
“Wow, Isabella, you have an uncanny resemblance to my sister. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was Laura lying in this bed.”
Leaning closer to the bed, Lily studied the woman’s face. “You don’t look anything like your picture. I can’t believe how much you look like Laura…of course Laura doesn’t have red hair. I’m the only one of the kids with red hair…”
Before Lily could get back to her task at hand and focus on jumping into Isabella’s dream, the door opened, and in walked the man who had left earlier. He wasn’t alone. With him was a woman, dressed in a white nurse’s uniform. She carried clean bed linens, while he carried a tub of water. The two chattered away, in the same foreign language Lily had heard the man speak earlier.<
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“Is that Russian?” Lily asked, after a moment of listening to the exchange. She didn’t expect an answer.
Lily watched as the female nurse set the linens down on a chair. As the pair scurried about the room, Lily surmised they were preparing to give Isabella a sponge bath and then change the bed linens.
“Dang, I need to be alone to do this right! Can’t you give her a bath some other time?” Lily stomped her foot in exasperation. The pair continued on, oblivious to Lily’s presence.
Lily glanced at the clock on the wall. “I suppose I’ll just wait until you’re done. I have time. Or maybe I’ll go ahead and give it a try and jump on in.”
Lily stepped back from the bed as the female nurse pulled the sheets and blanket from the mattress, dropping them to the floor. With help from the male nurse, she rolled the patient over so that she was on her back. Lily silently watched.
The male nurse gathered the sheets from the floor and deposited them in a nearby hamper, as the female nurse began unfastening the hospital gown.
“I feel like a voyeur,” Lily said. “I really don’t need to watch them bathe you.” Lily was just about to turn around, putting her back to the hospital bed, when the nurse pulled off the hospital gown, exposing to Lily’s view the nude body of the woman in the hospital bed.
Something inside Lily snapped. She stood frozen, staring at the familiar body. She moved closer, standing at the foot of the bed, looking down.
“Holy crap!” Lily cried out. “I know now why you look so much like my sister. But you aren’t my sister—you’re me!”
Chapter Fifteen
Sadie sat in the middle of the upstairs hallway watching Claire and Hunter. The pair went from room to room, trying to open each door.
“I’m not surprised they’re locked,” Hunter said. “But I suspect what we’re looking for is in the attic. After all, that’s where they found that necklace.”
“Oh, I get it now.” Walt leaned against a wall and watched. “You two are treasure hunters. Is this even your honeymoon?”
“It’s a little insulting she locked all the doors,” Claire grumbled. “After all, most of these are guest rooms. It’s not like anyone’s staying in them.”
“Or maybe it’s that Danielle isn’t completely naïve,” Walt said.
“Let’s go check out the attic,” Hunter suggested.
By the time Hunter and Claire made it to the attic, Walt was waiting for them, standing in the corner by a stack of boxes.
“At least the attic door wasn’t locked,” Claire said as she looked around, Sadie at her side. “This place is fairly clean. If anyone hid something up here, don’t you think Boatman would have found it already?”
“Not if she didn’t know about it. Or where to look. I doubt she knew what Isabella did.” Hunter slowly walked around the room. He touched the paneling and checked for loose boards.
“You know what I don’t understand?” Claire asked.
“No, what?” Hunter leaned down to look at a section of floorboard.
“Didn’t you say this Boatman chick is rich? Didn’t she inherit a bunch of money?”
“Two inheritances,” Hunter said. “According to the newspaper article, one from her aunt and one from a cousin.”
“We are talking rich, millions, right?”
“Yes, millions. Why?”
“Don’t you think it is a little odd she made us breakfast today? If I inherited buckets of cash I sure wouldn’t rent out rooms to strangers and make them breakfast. How stupid is that?”
“I also question her reasoning, but I wouldn’t call her stupid,” Walt said to deaf ears.
“Rich people tend to be eccentric,” Hunter explained with a shrug. He stood at the window, fidgeting briefly with the spotting scope. Putting his right eye to the scope’s eyepiece, he looked across the street and into Ian’s front window.
“Interesting,” Hunter murmured.
“What?”
“Wonder if our host is some sort of peeping Tom. She has this pointed to the house across the street. I can see right inside.”
“Here, let me see.” Claire rushed over to Hunter’s side and took his place at the scope.
Feeling bored, Walt waved his hand and summoned a lit cigar. He took a puff and leisurely exhaled.
“There it is again!” Hunter cried out, grabbing hold of Claire’s forearm.
“What?” Claire asked, no longer looking through the scope.
“Can you smell that? The spirit is back.” Hunter let go of Claire.
Claire took a deep breath. “I want a cigarette.”
“Later Claire.” Hunter looked around the room.
Claire started for the door. “I’ll be right back. I’m going back to the room to grab a cigarette. You want one?”
“We can’t smoke up here. Boatman made it very clear we have to smoke outside, on the patio, not inside the house.”
Claire stopped walking and looked back at Hunter. “He smokes inside.”
“I don’t think she can control that. We don’t want to do anything that might get us kicked out. Stay here. Don’t leave.”
“Okay, fine,” Claire grumbled. “So now what?”
In response, Hunter walked to the center of the room, outstretched his arms, and closed his eyes. “Marvin Marlow, can you hear me. Please give me a sign!”
“You remind me of a carny barker when you do that,” Walt snickered.
“Please give me a sign!” Hunter repeated.
Feeling mischievous, Walt pushed the top box off the stack. It fell to the floor with a loud thump. Claire jumped and let out a squeal; Sadie barked and Hunter stood mute, his eyes wide.
“You didn’t really expect me to answer you, did you?” Walt snickered, taking a puff off the cigar.
“What was that?” Claire asked nervously.
“It has to be Marvin Marlow. He’s here. He’s reaching out to me.”
“I’d rather think it was a little earthquake,” Claire said, her eyes darting around the room.
“No. It wasn’t an earthquake. I can feel his presence. He’s reaching out to me.”
“I don’t like this.” Claire glanced to the door, considering a quick exit.
“No Claire,” Hunter said when he saw Claire was about to bolt. “I want you to stay here, with me.”
Reluctantly, Claire stayed put.
“Marvin, I understand you’re trapped here. I can help you.”
Arching his brow, Walt said, “You slay me!”
“You are the spirit that died in the attic, aren’t you? Knock one for yes, two for no.”
“Parlor games? Okay, I can play.” Walt flashed a smile and then knocked twice on the wall: two distinctive knocks.
By Hunter’s stunned expression, it was clear to Walt the man hadn’t expected the knock. Claire let out another scream, preparing to run from the room, yet Hunter grabbed her arm again, holding her in place. Sadie began to bark.
“There is nothing to be afraid of,” Hunter insisted, yet he didn’t sound convinced.
“Stop barking, Sadie,” Walt scolded. “You know better than that.” Sadie immediately stopped barking. She lay down on the floor, her tail wagging. She peeked up at Walt, yet didn’t bark again.
“I can help you cross over to the other side, Marvin,” Hunter promised.
“What if I don’t want to cross over?” Walt asked, leaning casually against what remained of the stack of boxes. “And stop calling me Marvin. I was teasing you, you dumb palooka.”
“You must come to terms with your suicide. I know you’re angry that Danielle Boatman has changed your story.”
“I didn’t kill myself. You need to read the updated version of Marlow House history.” Walt wondered how the man could get everything wrong, yet picked up on the fake name he threw out.
“You have to make amends to free your soul so you can move on,” Hunter insisted.
“Amends? For what? For a suicide that didn’t take place?”
“Tell me where you hid the diamonds, and I’ll make sure they’re returned to the rightful owner.”
Claire started to question Hunter about returning the diamonds, but he quickly silenced her.
“Ah ha…now we are getting somewhere! You are on some sort of a treasure hunt. Diamonds you say? What diamonds?” With a wave of Walt’s hand, the thin cigar disappeared.
“Marvin, knock twice if the diamonds are still here and once if they’ve been moved.”
Instead of knocking, Walt stood and watched.
“Is he still here?” Claire asked in a whisper.
“I’m not sure,” Hunter sniffed the air. “I can barely smell the cigar smoke.”
“I can’t smell it at all any more,” Claire said.
“Marvin, we don’t have to talk about the diamonds. Knock once if you are still here,” Hunter said as he sniffed the air.
“What are you up to?” Walt asked, eyeing the couple curiously.
“He’s not here,” Hunter said with conviction.
“Are you sure?” Claire looked around uneasily.
“If we smell cigar smoke, we’ll know he’s in the room. No smoke, he left.”
“Are you sure?” Claire didn’t sound convinced. “I don’t like the idea of ghosts. I don’t know how you can do it, Hunter. It freaks me out.”
“Claire, when we’re here, you need to call me Hank. Even when we’re alone.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you to slip. While we’re at Marlow house, we are Mr. and Mrs. Hank Stewart.”
“Fine,” Claire said begrudgingly. “Can I please go have a cigarette now?”
“Go ahead, but smoke outside, on the back patio, off the kitchen.”
“Okay. But I think it’s stupid. You coming with me?”
“No, I’m going to explore the attic, see if I can find any loose boards. From what I read, they found the necklace in a hiding place in the wall. Chances are, there’s more than one hiding place up here.”
Claire gave Hunter a quick kiss before leaving the attic. Walt looked down at Sadie. “Sadie, go with her. Keep an eye on her. Let me know what mischief she gets into downstairs.”
