by Bobbi Holmes
“Are you all right?” Brian asked when he noticed Danielle’s sudden change in expression.
“Hello again,” Isabella cheerfully greeted. “I’d stay and talk but I really would like to see what Uncle Stoddard has to say.”
“Umm…just a little exhausted with all that’s been going on,” Danielle mumbled as she watched Isabella disappear down the hall and go into the interrogation room.
* * *
“I don’t know why you dragged me down here again. Twice in one day and it isn’t even noon yet,” Stoddard grumbled as he sat down at the table.
“I thought you’d like to know how your niece died. We got the autopsy report back.” The chief took a seat at the table facing Stoddard. He set the folder on the table.
“How did she die?”
“Isabella died of natural causes. She had a brain aneurysm.”
“So that’s what happened,” Isabella murmured from her place in the corner of the room.
Stoddard sat quietly for a few moments. Finally, he said, “Then Boatman must have put her in that crypt for the necklace.”
“Stoddard, do you realize how outrageous that sounds?”
“Truth is stranger than fiction. I’m always hearing that.”
“The problem is, we didn’t find Boatman’s fingerprints in the crypt. But we did find some prints that had no business being there, considering that the last time that crypt was opened—before Isabella’s body was put there—was almost a century ago.”
“Whose fingerprints?” Stoddard looked up warily.
“I believe you know the owners. They both work for you.”
“Even if they do, I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“And there is the little matter of Isabella’s dragon tattoo.”
“I told you, that woman had the same tattoo. They were trying to pull something, Boatman and her friend. They put Isabella in the vault and stole her car. Miller was trying to assume Isabella’s identity, and it almost worked.”
The chief let out a sigh and opened the manila folder. From it he removed a photograph of a man and slid it across the table to Stoddard. “Do you recognize this man?”
Stoddard briefly looked at the picture and pushed it away. “No. I’ve never seen him before.”
“Interesting. He seems to know you. He’s the tattoo artist responsible for Isabella’s tattoo. And he admitted he’s the one who tattooed Lily.”
“So. What does that have to do with me?” Stoddard moved restlessly in his seat.
“Considering he’s from Washington, you probably didn’t expect we’d be able to track him down. But as it turns out, Adam Nichols remembered the name of Isabella’s tattoo artist. And when we checked into the man’s bank account, we noticed a substantial deposit made just a couple days ago. I’d say it was for a little more than just a tattoo. I’m surprised you’d use a business check. You didn’t do a very good job at covering your tracks.”
“He put my tattoo on that poor woman?” Isabella gasped. “I knew he could be a little hinky, but that is totally unethical!”
Stoddard started shaking his head in denial, yet before the chief could give him the men’s names, he cried out, “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt!” Folding his arms on the table, he laid down his head and began to weep. After a few moments, he lifted his head and looked at the chief.
“Stoddard Gusarov you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”
“Yes. But, I don’t need to call my attorney. It’s not like I had anything to do with Isabella’s death.”
“What happened, Stoddard?”
After Stoddard regained his composure, he began to talk. “I went to Isabella’s house. I needed to talk to her about the company taxes, and she kept brushing me off, like she always did. So I had to go to her. When she didn’t answer the door, I just went in. It wasn’t locked. I found her on the couch; the TV was on. At first, I thought she was asleep. But she was dead.”
“Why didn’t you just call us?”
“She was never involved with the business—never wanted any responsibility. She just wanted her dividend checks and was perfectly happy with me doing everything, keeping the business running. But she was going to leave her half to that cult. She wasn’t even apologetic about it. Kept saying she had the right to leave her money to whoever she wanted.”
“It was my money Uncle Stoddard. Don’t act like you didn’t get financially compensated. And admit it; you never wanted me involved in the business. I tried at first, but you made it so unpleasant I just gave up.”
“Did you really think no one would ever wonder where she was?”
“She was already dead. It wasn’t like I could help her. I just needed time to figure out what to do. I tried to think of the one place I could put her were no one would ever find her body. I figured no one was ever going to open that crypt again.”
“What happened to her car?”
“I left it at the beach, with the door unlocked and the keys in the ignition. I left her purse in the car. I figured someone would steal it, and take it out of town. And if they started using her credit cards, even better. If any of her friends started to wonder where she was and they came to you, you’d see activity on her cards and assumed she was doing what she always did—taking off without thinking of anyone else.”
“So that’s how my car got to the beach!” Isabella said as she walked closer to Stoddard. “I was so confused. I found myself at the cemetery. I didn’t know how I got there. I started looking for my car and somehow ended up at the beach.”
“What if we found the car first? Or if someone started looking for her before it was taken?”
“I figured it would look like foul play, but without a body she really couldn’t be ruled dead, at least not right away.”
“Why did you identify Lily Miller as Isabella?”
“At the time, it just seemed like the answer. When the police in California called me, telling me they found a car registered to our company, I knew they were talking about Isabella’s car. Her purse was still in it, with her driver’s license. By the photo, they were pretty sure Miller was Isabella, but they wanted to see if I could identify her. They told me her condition; she was in a coma. And when they showed me her picture—I just said yes, it was her. I didn’t even think it through at the time. In some way I felt it was fate.”
“It wasn’t fate,” Isabella said angrily. “Those fools who took my car—the one you left for them—almost killed that poor woman!”
“When did you decide to have her tattooed?”
“At the hospital, I realized if anyone visited they would know immediately it wasn’t Isabella just by the arm. That’s when I decided to move her home and have private medical care. I contacted Isabella’s tattoo artist, and he seemed more than willing to provide his service, no questions asked, for the right amount of money.”
“Once we started questioning him, he folded fairly quickly.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Isabella scoffed.
“In my defense I made sure she had the best medical care.”
“She wouldn’t have needed medical care if you hadn’t left my car at the beach with the keys in it! Then those people would never have stolen it, and they wouldn’t have broken down at that rest stop! If it wasn’t for your actions that woman would never have been attacked!”
“What did you intend to do if she suddenly woke up?”
“I had already made arrangements to move her to a private hospital in Canada. If she eventually woke up, I would have dealt with it.” Stoddard stared at his hands, his fingers fidgeting.
“Dealt with it?”
“I wouldn’t have hurt her. I figured I could pay her off. She could go home, and no one would have to know where she’d been. After all, I paid for her medical care
and it’s not like I’m the one who hurt her.”
“You tattooed her arm.”
“I intended to compensate her for any…well….any perceived pain and suffering.”
“You think money will take care of everything, don’t you Uncle Stoddard.”
“Did you put Isabella’s bracelet in Marlow House?”
“No!” Stoddard said emphatically, looking up into the chief’s eyes. “I never saw Isabella’s bracelet. She wasn’t wearing it. I had nothing to do with putting it in Boatman’s house.” Stoddard took a deep breath then said, “I think I should probably call my attorney.”
“I don’t know how much that attorney is going to help you now Uncle Stoddard.” Isabella moved toward the door. “And to think it was all for nothing. If you had just looked in the files at your house, you’d see I changed my will. I put a copy in your filing cabinet six months ago. But obviously, you haven’t found it yet. I assumed you’d find it before I died, but I never expected to die so young and suddenly. Perhaps part of this is my fault, since I led you to believe I was still leaving my money to Earthbound Spirits.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Danielle didn’t see the woman when she pulled into the parking lot at the hospital. She let out a scream and slammed on her brakes, but she wasn’t quick enough. Her car plowed into the pedestrian before screeching to a stop. There was no thud—no sound or bump from impact. The woman wasn’t sprawled unconscious or dead in the parking lot; she stood before Danielle, her body disappearing through the hood of the car, as if she still stood on the pavement where the front part of the car had stopped. It was the woman in overalls—the one who had been looking for Claire and Hunter at Marlow House.
Danielle’s heart raced as she stared at the ghost. In the next instant, the woman disappeared. Danielle heard a honk. Glancing up in the rearview mirror, she saw a car behind her, waiting for her to move. Taking a deep breath, she finished parking her car.
When Danielle got to Lily’s hospital room, the Millers were just preparing to leave.
“You girls have a nice visit,” Mrs. Miller said as she patted Danielle’s arm on her way out of the room.
“Where are you going?” Danielle asked.
“To get something to eat,” Mr. Miller explained before giving his daughter a quick kiss on the cheek.
“How did it go at the police station?” Lily asked after her parents left. “You look a little rattled.”
“In the parking lot, I thought I hit someone. But then I realized…” Danielle stopped talking, her attention drawn to a shadow in the corner of the room. In the next instant, the shadow transformed. It was the woman from the parking lot—the one wearing overalls. The ghost walked toward the bed, her attention focused on Lily.
“What’s wrong?” Lily asked. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“I think I am seeing one,” Danielle muttered, her gaze still locked on the mystery woman.
“Where?” Lily sat up in her bed, looking around frantically.
“She’s alive,” the woman said in awe, now standing over Lily. “I thought I killed her. I hit her hard. I could hear her skull crack,” the woman said with no emotion.
Danielle swallowed nervously.
“Where is it?” Lily asked again.
“Who are you?” Danielle asked.
Lily’s eyes widened, noting whoever Danielle was talking to was obviously standing close to the bed. Grabbing the top of her blanket, she pulled the covering up past her chin, as she slid down in the bed. Anxiously, she looked from Danielle to the space where she imagined the ghost stood.
“You can see me. No one else can, except for that woman at the gas station.” She glanced down at Lily. “Your friend can’t see me, can she?”
“What do you want?” Danielle asked.
“I want to go home,” the woman said sadly. “But I can’t. They tell me I must move on, but that place scares me.”
“Follow the light,” Danielle suggested. She was tempted to ask the woman what she meant when she had said she thought she killed Lily, yet Danielle kept quiet, worried it would frighten her bedridden friend.
“No one knows I’m dead,” the woman said looking from Lily to Danielle. “But I am dead, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are,” Danielle said quietly.
“Everyone thought it was your friend in that car, but it wasn’t, it was me. If I had switched the license plates like I was supposed to, maybe they would have realized it wasn’t her.”
“You need to follow the light,” Danielle said again.
“But there is no light for me…just darkness. I don’t like the sound.”
“The sound?” Danielle asked.
“Screams. The painful screams. They are waiting for me but I don’t want to go.” The woman vanished.
“She’s gone,” Danielle said.
“I never considered, but this being a hospital, I imagine there are all sorts of spirits wandering around—patients that didn’t make it.”
“I suppose,” Danielle murmured, glancing around the room, looking for any signs of the woman. After she was confident it was just herself and Lily in the room, she sat down on a chair.
“What did the ghost say?” Lily sat up in the bed.
“She was confused. Asked me if she was dead. Mentioned I was the only one who could see her. She seems to be gone now.” Danielle forced a smile. “So how are you feeling?”
“I’m okay. The physical therapist was here for a few minutes this morning. Tell me what happened at the police station.”
“The chief wanted to see me. Apparently, Isabella’s uncle is trying to convince the chief I killed Isabella, put her in that crypt. And that you were trying to impersonate her.”
“What?” Lily sat up even straighter. “That jerk! Do the police actually buy that bull?”
“No. The autopsy came in on Isabella; she died of natural causes. So, I obviously didn’t murder her. Plus, my fingerprints weren’t anywhere inside the crypt, but they found fingerprints belonging to a couple of Gusarov’s employees. But the chief doesn’t want me to say anything about it right now. I suppose I shouldn’t be telling you, but I think you have a right to know. Don’t mention anything to your folks yet. I’d rather stay in the chief’s good graces.”
“That Gusarov guy is a real piece of work.” Lily shook her head in disgust.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“Joe stopped by this morning to tell me the guy who tried to steal Sadie was making a plea deal, so I probably wouldn’t be called to testify. While he was there he found a gold and sapphire bracelet hidden in that teapot you picked up at the swap meet.”
“First of all, why was he looking in your teapot? And whose bracelet was it?”
“It belonged to Isabella Strickland. She had it custom made. It matched the necklace she had on when we found her. Has a dragon clasp that matches her tattoo.”
“Oh please, don’t get me started on dragon tattoos!” Lily looked down at her tattooed arm and frowned. “How did it get in the teapot?”
“The chief seems to think Isabella’s uncle had someone plant it in Marlow House to implicate me.”
“Is that possible?”
“I don’t see how. Walt swears no one’s been in the parlor recently—aside from the Stewarts.”
“Is there some connection between the Stewarts and Isabella?” Lily asked.
“I’m beginning to wonder.” Danielle leaned back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest.
“How so?”
“If you’ll remember they mentioned an Isabella when talking about the diamonds supposedly hidden at Marlow House.” And the woman in the overalls asked about them and then claimed to have killed you—or at least she thought she had, until she saw you were still alive.
“That creep makes me so angry,” Lily fumed.
“You talking about Isabella’s uncle?”
“Yes. It’s like I’ve been violated. It�
��s not just that tattoo—which makes me furious—but everything about it. He cut my hair. Arrogantly made decisions regarding my body. I could have lost my leg due to the neglect of his so-called private medical staff. I swear, I’m angrier today than I was yesterday.”
“Maybe you need to talk to someone about it,” Danielle suggested.
“You mean a lawyer?”
“No, although I imagine it would be a good idea to get an attorney.”
“So like what, a shrink?”
“You’ve been through a lot Lily. I think it might help if you talk to someone.”
“Yeah, my mother sort of suggested that too.” Lily slumped back on her pillows and let out a weary sigh.
“Knock knock,” a man called out from the doorway.
Danielle turned around in her seat to face the man attached to the voice.
“Hello Joe,” Lily greeted before Danielle could comment.
Joe Morelli, dressed in his police uniform, stood at the open doorway holding a vase of flowers. “Can I come in?”
“Sure. Are those for me?” Lily beamed.
Joe stepped into the room. “Yes. Wow, you look great.” He turned to Danielle and smiled. “Hello Danielle.”
“Hi Joe, those look pretty,” Danielle greeted, looking at the flowers.
“Where would you like me to put them?”
“Can I smell them first? Then you can set them on the dresser.”
Joe grinned at Lily’s request. He walked to the bed and handed her the flowers. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Smiling, she opened her eyes and handed the flowers back to Joe.
“They’re beautiful, thanks.”
“Glad to see you’re looking so good,” Joe said as he set the vase on the dresser.
“Now I feel guilty, I didn’t bring flowers.” Danielle was only half teasing.
“You did something better,” Joe said. “You rescued your friend.”
“Yes she did.” Lily grinned.
“I wanted to come over here to give you the heads up,” Joe began. “Don’t be surprised if the Gusarov attorney shows up and offers you a settlement.”
“What’s going on?” Lily asked. “I understood he was trying to implicate Danielle and me—he’s the innocent victim.” She glanced at her tattooed arm and frowned.
