Ghost Who Came for Christmas

by McIntyre, Anna J

  “Danielle,” Walt interrupted, ignoring the story Patricia was currently telling. “I need to talk to you about the blood in the attic. Please meet me in the library.” Walt then disappeared.

  A few minutes later, when there was a break in the conversation, Danielle excused herself, making up a story about a phone call she forgot to make. When she got to the library, she found Walt sitting on the sofa waiting for her, a lit cigar in his hand. She entered the room and closed the door behind her.

  “What about the blood?” She sat next to Walt on the sofa.

  “I’m afraid I have to be the one to tell you this…” Walt casually took a puff off his cigar and then blew out a smoke ring. It lazily drifted to the ceiling and disappeared. “Someone was murdered in the attic.”

  “Murdered?”

  Walt turned to Danielle and nodded. “Yes, a poor rat. The killer is Max, he confessed.”

  “We have rats?”

  “Had. As I mentioned, Max killed it.”

  “What does this have to do with the blood?”

  “Isn’t that obvious?” Walt flicked an ash off his cigar. It vanished as it hit the floor. “The blood on the rug was from the rat.”

  “While I remember a few gruesome body parts, licked clean and left for me to find, when I had a cat as a kid, I don’t remember ever finding blood.”

  Walt shrugged. “Apparently he just wanted to play with the poor little guy for a while. Didn’t realize how sharp his teeth were. Must have hit an artery or something. It happened on the white throw rug. He took what was left of the poor creature outside. He’s currently on patrol in the attic, in case there are more.”

  Danielle glanced up at the ceiling. “While I’m relieved to know the blood wasn’t from someone being killed in the attic, I’m not thrilled to hear we may have rats. Plus, I wish the blood was Anna’s.”

  “Why?”

  “I was hoping it would prove the woman they found wasn’t her.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be able to eventually ID the woman.”

  “I suppose you’re right. There’re also dental records, DNA...”

  Walt stood up. “I just thought you should know.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Back to the attic to keep an eye on Max. Is Sadie still in the parlor with Jessica?”

  “I think so.”

  Walt waved his hand and disappeared with his cigar.

  Instead of rushing back to the library, Danielle let out a sigh and leaned back in the sofa, staring at the fireplace. Contemplating if she should light a fire in the library hearth or return to the living room, her thoughts were abruptly interrupted when a blonde woman stepped out of the fireplace.

  Wearing a blue floral nightgown, the woman looked around the room, a frown plastered on her face. “Where is he?” she demanded.

  Danielle sat up straight in the sofa, her eyes focused on the apparition. “Who?” Danielle found herself asking.

  “The cop, of course. I followed him here. Where did he go?” the woman walked farther into the room and looked around.

  “Chief MacDonald?” Danielle asked.

  Exasperated, the woman flopped down on a chair and propped her bare feet on a table. “I don’t know what his name is. Just a cop, that’s all I know.”

  “Who are you?” Danielle asked.

  The woman stared at Danielle a moment before answering. “I’m Beatrice Montgomery, if it’s any of your business.” The woman glanced around again. “Where am I?”

  “You’re at Marlow House.”

  “Marlow House?” The woman scowled. “Never heard of it.”

  “Why do you want Chief MacDonald?”

  “I never said I wanted Chief MacDonald. I want the cop I was following.”

  “Chief MacDonald is the cop who was just here.”

  Beatrice shrugged. “Maybe that’s his name, I don’t know. He wouldn’t talk to me. Rude. He ignored me at the beach, none of them would answer my questions. I followed him back to the police station. I even went to his house. Lord, he has some wild little boys! One of them told me to leave and threw a toy truck at me!”

  “One of his sons saw you?”

  “What kind of question is that?” Beatrice shook her head in disgust.

  “Maybe you should tell me why you want to talk to the chief…I mean, the cop.”

  “I want him to arrest my husband, Herbert.”

  “Umm…what did Herbert do?”

  “He pushed me off that cliff, that’s what that jerk did! And then just drove off in the motorhome. This is the last time Herbert pulls something like this on me. I want a divorce!”

  “Can you tell me what happened exactly?”

  Beatrice let out a sigh and leaned back. “I wanted to take a cruise but Herbert got this bright idea to rent a motorhome and travel up the Oregon coast. Who travels up the Oregon coast in December? What was he thinking? I wanted somewhere tropical and warm.”

  “Where were you staying?”

  “Staying? Why, anywhere that wouldn’t charge us a camping fee. Cheap jerk. We ended up on some pull out along the highway for Christmas. Sure, it had a great view, but the wind starts howling and the rain keeps falling, and the thunder and lightening! I told Herbert I wanted to move, that I didn’t want to be washed away in some tsunami.”

  “So what happened?” Danielle asked.

  “We started arguing—again—and he says, I’ll show you a tsunami, and he grabs me by the wrist and starts to jerk me outside. I don’t want to go outside! It’s raining, and I only have my nightgown on. But we start fighting, and the next thing I know we’re outside in the rain, yelling at each other and that jerk pushes me off the cliff!”

  Before Danielle could respond, the door to the library opened and Chris walked in.

  “Hey Danielle, I wanted to ask you…” Chris stopped talking and looked at the blonde woman. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.”

  Beatrice’s eyes widened and she broke into a smile. Sitting up straight in the chair she crossed her legs, attempting a flattering pose and said, “Well, hello, cutie. Who are you?”

  Danielle glanced frantically from Beatrice to Chris and then asked, “You can see her?”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “What kind of question is that?” Beatrice asked, flashing Danielle a dirty look before turning her smile back to Chris.

  Frowning in confusion, Chris looked from Danielle to the stranger. It was then he noticed the blonde wasn’t wearing a dress—she wore a nightgown. A woman wearing just a nightgown, sitting in the library of Marlow House wouldn’t be so unusual if she happened to be staying at the B and B, he thought.

  “Are you a new guest?” The moment he asked the question he realized how idiotic it was. All of the guestrooms were occupied, and he didn’t think Danielle was about to rent out Anna’s room, after all, she had paid through New Year’s, and technically it was still hers, even if she wasn’t coming back. As for the blonde’s attire, he couldn’t imagine a potential guest would just show up wearing a nightgown. However, it was Danielle’s question—can you see her?—that gave him a sickening feeling.

  “Guest? Goodness no!” Beatrice laughed. “But…if you’re staying here I might seriously consider checking in.” She winked at Chris, re-crossed her legs and wiggled the toes of her top foot.

  Walt took that moment to re-enter the room. He seemed as surprised to find the nightgown clad blonde as Danielle was to discover Chris could see Beatrice.

  “My goodness, the good looking men just seem to pop out of the woodwork around here!” Beatrice gleefully exclaimed.

  Walt walked to the blonde and took note of her floral nightgown. He then looked at Danielle. “I take it she’s the blonde who washed up on shore yesterday?”

  “What are you talking about?” Beatrice shrieked.

  Walt shrugged. “I guess the Chief won’t be arresting Chris now.”

  “What do you mean arrest me?” Chris blurted.

&
nbsp; Walt and Danielle’s eyes riveted on Chris.

  “You can see him too?” Danielle shrieked.

  Chris let out a sigh and sat down on the empty chair. “Pretending is getting too damn exhausting. Yes, I can see Walt. I can also see the blonde. Who is she, by the way, and what is this about me not getting arrested?”

  “What are you people talking about?” Beatrice shouted and then disappeared.

  “I wonder if she’s coming back?” Chris murmured, looking at the now empty chair. When no one responded he glanced over to Walt and Danielle, who continued to stare at him, their expressions blank.

  Chris let out another sigh and leaned back in his chair. He looked from Walt to Danielle. “Yes, I can see Walt. What’s the big deal?”

  “And you never said anything?” Danielle could feel her face turning red.

  Chris shrugged. “Oh come on, you know how it is. You tell people you can see ghosts and they start looking at you like they want to lock you up.”

  “But you could’ve said something to me,” Danielle fumed. “Because I obviously could see Walt.”

  Walt tapped a finger against his chin and studied Chris for a moment. “Does this mean Chris could hear everything I said to you, when he was in the room with us?”

  Chris flashed Walt a smile and nodded.

  “Even when I discussed what Danielle and Lily thought of your looks?”

  Chris’ grin broadened.

  Danielle let out an embarrassed gasp and grabbed the sofa pillow sitting next to her. “Why you rat!” she shouted just before standing up and slamming the pillow against Chris. Using his arms to shield himself from her blows, he tried to dodged the assault. She continued to smack him with the pillow.

  Danielle didn’t stop swinging her weapon because she was hurting Chris, but because she heard him laughing. Enraged, she threw the pillow against the fireplace. It fell to the floor and she sat back on the sofa, angrily crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Oh come on, Danielle,” Chris cooed, “Don’t be angry with me. I didn’t mean any harm.”

  “I could just slug you,” Danielle fumed, glaring at Chris.

  “Yeah, I know. You just did.” He chuckled.

  “Perhaps Danielle didn’t do any damage just now, but you may not be so lucky with me,” Walt warned in a stern voice.

  Chris looked over at Walt and rolled his eyes. “Yeah right. If you think jumping in my face and yelling boo is going to shake me up, you’d have better luck smacking me with a pillow, if you actually could.”

  Walt raised his brows. “Oh really?” The chair Chris sat on began to rise up into the air.

  “Oh crap,” Chris muttered, his hands now gripping the chair’s arms. He looked down and then up. His head was almost touching the ceiling.

  “Oh, put him down, Walt. And don’t break anything,” Danielle said with disgust.

  Slowly, the chair lowered back toward the floor. Just as it was about two feet from touching back down, it tipped forward suddenly, dropping Chris, face first, onto the library floor. He landed with a loud thumping sound before letting out a grunt.

  Danielle cringed. “Ouch. I bet that hurt.”

  Chris groaned, and pulled himself up off the floor. Rubbing his face, he said, “Okay, I deserved that. I confess, I misjudged Walt’s abilities. I hadn’t seen him do anything, and I just assumed—”

  “Assumed what?” Walt asked.

  Chris glanced at the chair he had been sitting on a moment earlier. It sat quietly in its original place. “Can I sit down? Or will you send me across the room?”

  “Go ahead. Just be warned.” Walt smiled smugly and sat on the sofa next to Danielle. They faced Chris.

  Feeling calmer now, Danielle asked, “When did you first realize you could see spirits?”

  Chris shrugged. “For as long as I can remember. My mother told me I had a vivid imagination, that I would probably be a writer someday. She encouraged me to tell her about my imaginary friends, yet she suggested I keep it our secret.”

  “When did you realize they were more than just your imagination?” Danielle asked.

  “I suppose when I was about ten and went to my first funeral and the guest of honor decided to sit next to me and chat.”

  “Was it someone you knew very well?”

  “It was a neighbor. Nice enough guy. I was a bit freaked, but after that things started to make sense. How about you?”

  Danielle told Chris about seeing her grandmother, and of the neighbor boy who got her sent to a shrink, and how she learned to keep the secret.

  “Does anyone else know about your ability?” Chris asked.

  “Lily and the chief.”

  “The chief?” Chris frowned.

  “The police chief, Chief MacDonald.”

  “Wait a minute—is this the chief Walt was talking about, who wants to have me arrested?”

  “Aren’t you being a bit presumptuous?” Walt asked.

  Chris frowned. “Presumptuous, how?”

  “Calling me Walt. Did I give you permission to call me by my first name? Young people have no manners.”

  “I didn’t hear you calling me by Mr. Johnson,” Chris countered.

  “Your name’s not Johnson.”

  “I haven’t heard you call me by Mr. Glandon either. Anyway, you died before you were thirty, that technically makes you the youngster, Wally.”

  “Have you forgotten the chair?” Walt warned.

  Chris quickly put up his hands in defeat. “You’re right. You have the power of the chair, Mr. Marlow.”

  “No, please call me Walt.” Walt smiled smugly, leaning back in the sofa. The smile quickly faded. He leaned forward and glared at Chris.

  “What’s wrong now?” Chris asked.

  “I just remember the other things you said. Exactly what does nerdy mean? Danielle wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Oh…that.” Chris smile sheepishly.

  Danielle’s eyes widened. She started to laugh. “You were doing that on purpose! You knew he could hear you! You said all that stuff about him just to rile him!”

  Chris shrugged and then glanced over to Walt who glared at him through narrowed eyes. “In my defense, I had no idea you had mastered any spiritual powers.”

  “Spiritual powers?” Danielle repeated. “I always think of it as harnessing energy.”

  “I suppose that’s the same thing,” Chris told her.

  “So, do you always go around teasing poor defenseless spirits that way? Making fun of them?” Danielle asked in a scolding voice.

  “No. To be honest, I’ve never been in a position like this. Never encountered a spirit who wasn’t aware I could see him.”

  “Humm…interesting…” Walt studied Chris.

  “Back to my original question—what was this about the chief wanting to arrest me?”

  “Oh, right…Anna…Beatrice,” Danielle said with sigh.

  “Anna? Beatrice?” Chris frowned.

  “The woman who was just here, her body washed up on the beach yesterday. The chief showed up earlier today—twice in fact—because he suspects the body is Anna’s.”

  “That woman? Why, she looks nothing like Anna. Surely someone’s told him that.”

  “That’s the problem, Beatrice—that’s the woman’s name—apparently her husband threw her off the cliffs on Christmas day, and she fell face first on the rocks. Her face is unrecognizable. And if you think about it, she’s the general size and shape as Anna and has blond hair, around the same length.”

  “What about fingerprints?”

  “They ran them, but Beatrice must not be in the system.” Danielle then explained to Chris about the chief’s hopes of matching the blood on the rug to the dead woman, and how that wouldn’t be happening.

  “I still don’t understand what any of this has to do with me.”

  “Well, if that woman had proved to be Anna, you’re on the top of the suspect list, because of what Brian overheard at the diner.”

  “I didn’t
kill Anna,” Chris reiterated.

  “Maybe not. But if you could get her to return, clear up the mystery of the disappearance, then they’ll leave you alone.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Chris mumbled.

  “You think they’ll stay on your case even if Anna returns?”

  “No, I meant Anna is not going to come back. That’s not going to happen. But it has nothing to do with me. I can’t control what Anna does.”

  “Then maybe you need to tell them where Anna went, if you know.”

  “I don’t know.” Chris shook his head. “Trust me, I really don’t know where she went.”

  “Well, at least now that we know the woman who washed up on the beach is not Anna and that the blood they found on the rug isn’t human blood, they really shouldn’t be bothering you.”

  “Yeah, but how do we convince them the woman isn’t Anna? You said yourself her fingerprints aren’t in the system.”

  “No but I can go to the chief, tell him I saw her spirit, give him her name…Oh, her name! What was her last name again? And her husband’s name?” Danielle closed her eyes and tried to remember.

  “Yeah right, like you can just tell the police chief you saw the woman’s ghost!”

  “Shhh Chris! I need to remember…what was her name?”

  Danielle jumped up from the sofa and ran to the desk. She opened the desk drawer and pulled out a piece of paper and pen.

  “Her name was Beatrice… Beatrice Montgomery, and her husband’s name was…started with an H… Henry? No… Hugh?... Herbert!” Danielle quickly scribbled down the names.

  “Can I talk now?” Chris asked impatiently.

  Danielle folded the piece of paper and tucked it in her pocket. “Sure. What?”

  “Knowing the name of the victim will help identifying the body, but only if you can get the police chief to listen to you. How in the world are you going to convince him to check it out? You can’t very well just march in there and announce her ghost gave you the information.”

  “Sure I can.” Danielle smiled.

  “You can?”

  “I told you; the chief knows I can see ghosts.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four