The Ghost Who Dream Hopped

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “What happens if Danielle decides to pick them up sooner?” Chad asked.

  Ben grinned and picked up a ring of keys from the desk. “I already thought of that. I’m going to lock the boxes in the storage closet. If she comes to pick them up early, whoever is here will tell her I’m gone for the weekend—and since I’ll have the keys with me, they won’t be able to open the closet. But first, let’s look in the boxes and make sure it’s what we think it is.”

  Twenty-One

  Police Chief MacDonald sat alone at a Pier Café booth, looking through the menu, when Carla walked up to his table, order pad in one hand and a pot of coffee in the other.

  “Hey, Chief. You waiting for anyone?” Flipping over one cup with the hand that held the order pad, Carla then filled it with coffee.

  “No, it’s just me.” MacDonald closed the menu.

  She set the pot of coffee on the table and then pulled a pen from where she had tucked it behind one ear, hidden in her lime green hair. “You eating?”

  The chief leaned back in the booth, his hands resting on the closed menu before him. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “I just meant, you aren’t going to run out on me like Brian and Joe did yesterday, are you?”

  “You know how it is, Carla. Happens sometimes.”

  Carla set the order pad and pen on the table and sat down across from the chief. “I heard they’re the ones who found Beverly Klein. Is that where they went after they left here?”

  “News travels fast in this town.”

  Setting her elbows on the tabletop, she rested her chin on balled fists. “I just don’t know what is happening to Frederickport. But all this crime recently. What are you going to do about it, Chief?”

  “I’d like to start by having some lunch.”

  “And then those stupid crank phone calls.”

  MacDonald frowned. “What crank phone calls?”

  “Some jerk keeps calling in and telling Earl they found my hair in their food. Oh, they don’t say it’s my hair exactly, just that it’s pink or purple.”

  “And…you don’t think maybe…”

  Carla straightened up, her chin leaving its perch as her hands went down to the table. “If you are suggesting my hair is getting in the food…well, that is ridiculous! I just carry the plates from the window to the table. Not like my hair’s hanging over the food. Anyway, the last joker got the color wrong, so now Earl believes me.”

  “Practical jokers maybe?”

  “Not so funny if I lose my job.”

  “I don’t think I can help you with prank callers. You might want to contact the phone company. But I would like to see what I can do about Beverly’s attacker—if I can get some food first.”

  With a sigh, Carla stood back up and picked up the order pad and pen. “Is Beverly going to be okay?”

  “They released her from the hospital this morning.” The chief picked up the menu and opened it again. “I think she’s going to be fine.”

  “Maybe she’ll just move now,” Carla said under her breath.

  He looked up from his menu. “What do you mean?”

  Carla shrugged. “I heard she was going to move after Steve died. But she obviously changed her mind.”

  “The way you say that, sounds like you’d like her to move.”

  “It’s just that lately she’s been coming in here a lot. This is where I work. I have to be here. I just don’t know why she can’t find somewhere else to eat.”

  “Carla, she has the right to eat where she wants. Does she cause a problem when she comes in?”

  Carla shrugged again. “Not exactly. But she always treats me like I’m invisible. Like I’m the hired help.”

  Three booths down from where the chief sat at Pier Café, Millie Samson sat with Pastor Chad.

  “I am so relieved,” Millie told Chad after hearing he had picked up the boxes from Marlow House. “But I just don’t understand why we can’t get rid of those papers—once and for all. I still can’t believe Steve kept them.”

  Chad looked nervously toward the booth where the chief sat, still talking to Carla. “Shh, not so loud. Someone might hear.”

  Leaning over the table toward Chad, she asked in a loud whisper, “Why do we have to wait until Monday?”

  “Ben wants to make sure we refill the boxes with similar content so she doesn’t suspect.”

  “But why Monday?”

  “Ben’s going out of town for the weekend. In fact, he’s probably already gone.”

  “I assume you looked through the boxes and made sure it really was the material Steve was supposed to destroy?” Millie asked.

  “When I was at Marlow House, I only had a minute to look. They were filled with old newspaper articles, black-and-white photographs—what I remember putting in those boxes.”

  Millie frowned. “What about when you took them back to the museum? Did you and Ben go through them?”

  “We started to, but the morning docent arrived, and we really didn’t want him to see what we were looking at, so Ben just locked them up. He had to leave anyway.”

  “Ben’s not the only one who can empty those boxes and refill them. Let’s go over there and get it done. I’ll feel better when those papers are destroyed.”

  “I told you, the boxes are locked up,” Chad explained. “Ben is the only one with a key.”

  Millie started to respond but paused when she spied Sam from the Seahorse Motel walk into the diner. “Sam’s here!”

  Chad glanced to the entry and gave Sam a wave. “Good, he got my message.”

  A few moments later Sam walked up to their table.

  “Where are they?” Sam asked.

  “Sit down, and I’ll explain,” Chad said before scooting over to make room for him.

  After Chad finished with the explanation, Sam said, “Considering everything, I suppose we can wait until Monday. But I want to be there. I need to make sure it’s taken care of this time.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to tell Ruby?” Millie asked.

  Sam looked at Millie. “There’s no way I could keep something like this from Ruby. Can you imagine what she’d do to me if she found out I didn’t tell her?”

  “Yes, I can,” Millie said.

  “I spoke to Beverly in the hospital,” Chad said quietly.

  “How is she?” Sam asked.

  “She’s going to be okay—thank God.”

  “I heard they don’t know who attacked her,” Sam said.

  “She could have been killed,” Chad noted.

  Sam shrugged. “Perhaps, but she wasn’t. I don’t think whoever hit her intended to kill her.”

  “I certainly hope not!” Chad gasped.

  After finishing lunch, the chief left Pier Café and drove down the street to Marlow House. When he pulled up to the curb, he saw Joanne drive away.

  “Sorry for just dropping by,” MacDonald said when Danielle opened her front door a short time later. “Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Sure, come on in.” Danielle opened the door wider. “I was just talking to Walt and Ian; they’re in the living room. Is this something you need to talk to me in private about?”

  “No. I wouldn’t mind their input. I can’t really talk about this with anyone at the station.”

  As Danielle led the chief to the living room, she said, “Walt and I are asking Ian for some suggestions on remodeling the attic.”

  “You’re going to remodel the attic?” the chief asked as he walked into the living room.

  “If anyone asks, it’s Lily’s idea,” Walt called out. “Afternoon, Chief.”

  “Hey, Chief,” Ian greeted him.

  MacDonald gave Walt and Ian a nod and asked, “What’s this about remodeling the attic?”

  “It was Danielle’s idea—for Walt. But since most people wouldn’t understand, we’re saying it’s Lily’s idea as an expansion for the B and B,” Ian explained.

  “And Ian has all kinds of remodeling experience. His dad was
a general contractor, and Ian used to work for him,” Danielle explained.

  The chief looked at Ian. “You’re doing the remodel?”

  Ian laughed. “No. Just giving them some ideas.”

  “So, what did you need?” Danielle asked the chief as she took a seat on the sofa next to Walt.

  “I suppose I just want some moral support. I’m heading over to Beverly’s house to talk to her about the attack. I told Brian I wanted to handle this since he and Beverly are dating. But the real reason…”

  “Brian doesn’t know what we do about Beverly,” Danielle finished for him.

  The chief took a seat on one of the chairs next to Ian, across from Walt and Danielle. “A person who perpetrates this type of crime may have a grudge against the victim.”

  “I imagine Brian assumes it was a random attack?” Danielle asked.

  The chief nodded. “Yes. And because of that, I don’t think he’s going to be asking Beverly the right questions.”

  “You mean like, did you feed your husband shellfish?” Walt said with a snort.

  Ian cringed. “I still can’t believe she did that.”

  “And something else came up today,” the chief said. “I talked to Carla when I had lunch at the diner. Apparently, someone has been calling the diner on a regular basis and claiming they got colored hair in their food.”

  “I assume you mean a color like purple or pink?” Danielle asked.

  The chief nodded. “Yes. Whoever it is calls about once a month. Changes their voice, but Carla thinks it’s either the same person or teenagers.”

  “You think it’s Beverly?” Danielle asked.

  “According to Carla, the calls started coming about a month after Steve died.”

  “Seems like a childish thing to do,” Ian said.

  “Not quite as deadly as what she did to her husband,” Walt said.

  “No. But from what we know, she never intended to kill him, she wanted to make him very sick,” MacDonald reminded them.

  “I suppose getting someone fired can be as bad as making them sick,” Ian muttered.

  Twenty-Two

  “Hello, Chief,” Beverly greeted him when she answered her door late Friday afternoon.

  Even with the bandage on her head, Beverly Klein was an attractive woman. Just too bad she had to have killed her husband, the chief thought. “Hello, Beverly. I heard you got home today. I was hoping we could talk.”

  “Certainly…” She opened the door wider. Tugging on the satin belt tied around the waist of her floor-length robe, she said, “I hope you don’t mind, but after I got home, I just didn’t feel up to getting dressed again.”

  The chief stepped into the house. “I understand.” He glanced around. “I heard your daughter was here?”

  “Oh, Roxane? She left already. No reason to stay. I’m alright. I just need to remember to lock my doors.”

  A few minutes later the chief was seated in the living room with Beverly. He asked, “Have you had a chance to look around? Is anything missing?”

  She shrugged. “It didn’t look like the house was touched. In fact, I had some money sitting on the kitchen counter, and it was still there this morning. And in my living room, I’d taken off my diamond earrings and set them in an ashtray. They were still there.”

  “So it was just the garage?”

  “Yes. I didn’t see it. Brian told me it was a mess. The paramedics took me out through the front door. And by the time I got home, Roxane and her boyfriend had already cleaned it up. She took an inventory, and it seemed like it was all there. Although, I would have been grateful had the person taken the stuff from the garage.” Beverly laughed. “It would’ve saved me having to get rid of it.”

  “And you can’t think of anyone who might have done this?” he asked.

  She considered his question a moment and then shook her head. “No. Not at all.”

  “Do you have any enemies?”

  She frowned at the question. “Enemies? If I do, I certainly don’t know about it.”

  “Have you had a disagreement with anyone lately?”

  With a shrug she said, “No. I get along with everyone. But I will confess, I intend to take Steve’s handgun out of the safe in the garage. After all, I’m a woman living alone, and I’ve already been attacked once.”

  The chief stayed for another twenty minutes, yet by the time he got up to leave, he didn’t feel as if he had learned anything that might help them find her attacker. The urge to toss out some question about her husband and her involvement in his death was overwhelming, but he contained himself, knowing this was not the time.

  After he said goodbye and was outside again and about to get in his car, he heard someone call out his name. Pausing by his vehicle, he looked behind him and saw one of Beverly’s neighbors scurrying across the street in his direction.

  “Hello, Chief!” the woman called. MacDonald recognized her, but he couldn’t place her name.

  “I was hoping to catch you or one of your officers,” she said, slightly out of breath.

  “How can I help you?”

  “My husband told me one of your officers stopped by earlier asking if we saw anyone around Beverly’s house on Wednesday.”

  “I read that report. From what I understand, none of you saw anything.”

  “The thing is,” the woman began, “I wasn’t home when the officer was here and talked to my husband. And I did see someone! Three someones, actually.”

  “Who did you see?” he asked.

  “I saw one of your officers. Beverly was out on the front porch on the phone. But I imagine you already know about that.”

  MacDonald smiled and gave her a nod. “Yes.”

  “But then a couple of hours later—I’m not really sure what time it was—late afternoon—I noticed an old car pulling up to the house.”

  “Old car?”

  She smiled. “I don’t mean an old car like a beat-up old car. It was a classic, like you see at car shows. Something out of The Great Gatsby. I’m pretty sure it’s the same car I see parked in front of the museum sometimes.”

  “Did you see who was in it?”

  “No.” She shrugged. “It was a man, but I didn’t get a good look. I saw him walk around the side of the house. Toward Beverly’s back door. My husband was yelling at me, couldn’t find something in the refrigerator. By the time I looked back out the window, the car was gone.”

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “Yes, it was almost dark, and I saw this truck pull up in front of her house, saw a man get out of it. I don’t know who he was, but I recognized him.”

  “Where did you recognize him from?” he asked.

  “He’s the one who works at the Seahorse Motel. I have family that stays there when they come to town, and I’ve seen him there.”

  “Did he go into the house?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I just looked out the window and saw him get out of the truck. But I went back into the living room. I didn’t look out the window again that night.”

  “Chief,” Beverly said with surprise when she opened her front door again, “did you forget something?”

  “I just have a quick question. After Brian helped you move those boxes on Wednesday, did you have any visitors?”

  “Visitors? No?”

  “Do you know anyone who has a classic car? Something from the twenties, maybe?”

  Beverly considered the question a moment and then shrugged. “The only one that comes to mind is Ben Smith. Steve used to work with him at the museum.”

  “Is there any reason Ben might have been visiting you on Wednesday?”

  She frowned. “Ben?”

  “According to your neighbor, someone with an old classic car stopped by on Wednesday afternoon.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe it was when I took those boxes to Marlow House. But frankly, I have no idea why Ben would stop by. We aren’t exactly friends.”

  “How about Sam? He works at the Seahorse Motel. I ca
n’t recall his last name.”

  “Sam? I know who he is. I met him through Steve. Another one from the museum.”

  “Your neighbor says he also stopped by on Wednesday. It was right before dark.”

  “Oh my, it seems my Wednesday was even more active than I imagined! I didn’t see him, and like Ben, I can’t imagine why he would stop by. Plus, I was home around that time.”

  Not long after the chief and Ian left Marlow house did the first bed-and-breakfast guests arrive. They were a retired couple from Portland, Rubin and Joan Watts, who just wanted a break from the city. About an hour later the second couple arrived. A much younger pair, Raul and Lindy Garcia. They were from California and planned to stay through Sunday and then continue up to Washington on an extended road trip. The final guest to arrive was a young woman, Amy Marsh, who had family in Frederickport. Like the others, she would be checking out by Monday afternoon.

  By six p.m. all the guests had unpacked and left the house. The older couple were headed to Pearl Cove for dinner, while the younger pair was driving to Astoria for the evening, and the single woman had gone over to her cousin’s house. Once again, Danielle and Walt were alone in Marlow House.

  Walt found Danielle in the library, staring at the empty spot the portraits had once occupied.

  “The new guests all seem nice,” Walt said as he hopped into the room.

  “Uh-huh,” Danielle muttered, still staring at the empty spot.

  Walt frowned at Danielle, hopping to her side. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I miss them.”

  “Miss what?” he asked.

  “The paintings.”

  Walt chuckled. “I thought you called them monstrosities?”

  “I know…but still…they just sort of belong here.”

  “Then display the portraits when the museum returns them.”

  Danielle turned to Walt. “You wouldn’t mind? But…well…they aren’t the originals.”

  “I could say don’t sell the originals to Chris and put them back in here, but I’m not going to say that.”