The Ghost Who Dream Hopped

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “About those apple boxes. If the museum wants them, they already have them.” Danielle laughed. “Although Ben must not have been that interested in the boxes. When he called, he didn’t even mention it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Pastor Chad stopped over here yesterday with a couple of boys from the church to pick up the portraits—the museum is going to be displaying them until the originals come back. I had the apple boxes sitting by the closet where I kept the portraits, and they grabbed them by mistake. Ben called me and offered to have someone bring them over. I asked them if they could keep them until Tuesday. I’ll pick them up then.”

  “So you haven’t had a chance to see what was in the boxes?”

  “We’d already emptied them before they picked them up,” Danielle said.

  “Who emptied the boxes?” Walt asked.

  Danielle flashed him a smile. “Okay, you emptied the boxes.”

  “They took empty boxes?”

  Danielle shook her head at the chief’s question. “No. We put some other stuff in them.”

  The chief stood up. “Well, I’d better get going.”

  “So you just came over to pick on Walt?” Danielle asked.

  After the chief left, Walt moved the desk chair back over to the file cabinet and sat down. He opened the second file drawer and began looking through its contents. A moment later he pulled out a small black album and opened it. On the first page was a large black-and-white photograph that took up the entire page.

  “What is it?” Danielle asked.

  “Looks like a photo album,” he said as he thumbed through it. On the other pages were smaller black-and-white snapshots.

  “Katherine O’Malley’s album?” Danielle asked.

  Walt shook his head. “No.”

  “From your family?”

  Walt shook his head again. “No.”

  Danielle walked over to Walt and looked over his shoulder. He turned back to the first page and showed Danielle the first photograph.

  “Are they all fishing pictures?” she asked.

  Walt nodded. “It looks like it.”

  “Do you recognize anyone?”

  “Oh yeah…” Walt positioned the open page so Danielle could better see the large photograph. He pointed to one of the men in the picture. “That’s Roger.”

  Danielle leaned closer. “Wow, he really does look like his sister. Kind of a pretty boy.”

  Walt chuckled and then pointed to another man, this one holding up a large fish.

  “Who is that?” she asked.

  “Hal Tucker.” Walt pointed to another man. “That’s your friend’s father. Benjamin Smith.”

  “He looks a little like Ben. Who are the other four guys?”

  “I’m trying to think of their names. I didn’t really know them. They were all Roger’s buddies.”

  Twenty-Six

  After leaving Marlow House, the chief decided to stop by Beverly Klein’s again. Several of his officers had interviewed her other neighbors, yet no one—aside from the woman who lived across the street from Beverly—had seen anyone around the Klein house on Wednesday.

  There had been no other similar incidents in the area, and the chief wanted to know if the perpetrator had specifically targeted Beverly. The random crime made no sense to him.

  “Hello, Chief,” Beverly greeted him at her front door. Unlike his previous visit, she was no longer wearing the robe, but was clad in tan slacks and a fitted pullover sweater. She welcomed him into her house.

  “I have to admit I am flattered with all this attention,” she said as she showed him into the living room.

  “I just thought I would stop by and see if you happened to notice anything since you’ve been home. Maybe something’s missing that you didn’t notice before?”

  Beverly motioned to the recliner for him to take a seat as she shook her head and said, “No. Nothing. Would you like a glass of iced tea? I was just about to get one for myself.”

  “Ice tea would be nice, thank you.”

  Beverly flashed him a quick smile and then left him alone in the living room. He glanced around. There were no family photographs displayed—and certainly no picture of her late husband, Steve, in sight. That didn’t surprise him, considering the circumstances.

  A few minutes later Beverly returned with two glasses of tea. She handed the chief one and then took a place on the sofa.

  “Have you any leads on my attacker?” she asked before taking a sip.

  “Nothing yet. You haven’t thought of anyone who might have had a grievance with you?” he asked.

  “Not really. It’s not like I’ve had much of a social life since Steve died. Although, I have started dating. I suppose you know I’ve been seeing Brian. But if I’ve gotten someone angry with me, I don’t know who it would be. To be honest, I’ve been spending most of my time going through this house. Getting things in order.”

  “Are you planning on moving?” he asked.

  “I did after Steve died. I even talked to Adam Nichols about possibly listing my house. But I changed my mind. I decided it was too soon. Plus, I need to get this place organized—get rid of stuff I don’t want to keep. Just sorting through what Steve had in the garage was overwhelming—and that was before the attack! Plus, I need to work on the yard. If I eventually decide to list the property, it will show better, and it’ll be easier for me to move.”

  “You could hire someone to help you,” he suggested.

  “I tried that. What a disaster.”

  “What happened?” he asked before taking a drink of his iced tea.

  “Oh, you know, it’s just impossible to find someone to do any work anymore. Young people just want things handed to them. I found it’s easier to do it myself. Just takes a little longer.”

  They chatted for a few more minutes before the chief brought the conversation back to the attack. “If you think of anything, please give me a call.”

  “I will. By the way, did you happen to talk to Ben Smith?”

  “Ben?”

  “You mentioned yesterday my neighbor saw Ben stop by here on Wednesday, and I just wondered if you had any idea why. I was just curious. Ben was more a friend of Steve’s. You know, with all Steve’s work with the Historical Society.”

  The chief set his glass of tea on a coaster on the end table. “I tried calling him, but he’s gone for the weekend. Although, I was talking to Brian about it, and he seems to think Ben might have dropped by to ask you about the Marymoor apple boxes.”

  “Marymoor apple boxes?”

  “The wooden apple boxes you had in your garage. I guess they’re rare and have some local historical interest.”

  “How did he know about them?” She frowned. “I didn’t tell Chad about the boxes until the next day.”

  “Chad?”

  “Pastor Chad. He stopped by the hospital to see how I was doing. I told him about finding the apple boxes filled with what looked to be information on Marlow House history. Chad didn’t seem interested in the actual boxes—but he did want to know what was inside them. I told him I was sure Danielle would share anything pertinent with the museum. He is just like Steve; at the mention of some old historical document, they get all glassy eyed. Personally, I don’t understand the fascination.”

  “Did Chad bring up the boxes?” the chief asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did he ask you about them?”

  She shook her head. “No. He didn’t know anything about those boxes until I told him. Why do you ask?”

  The chief sat in silence for a moment and then shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

  When the chief left Beverly’s house, he got into his car and pulled out his cellphone and made a call.

  “Hey, Chief, what’s up?” Brian asked.

  “I have a quick question for you. When you were at the museum and told Ben about the apple boxes you found and suggested the museum might be interested in them, did Pastor Chad hear the c
onversation?”

  “Sure. It was Ben, Chad, Sam…and Millie Samson and Herman Shafer were also there.”

  “So Chad knew about the apple boxes Beverly gave to Danielle?”

  “He didn’t know she had given them to Danielle. I didn’t know that until later myself. But he heard the entire conversation. Why?”

  “I’m not sure. But something’s bugging me.”

  When the chief pulled into the parking lot of the church twenty minutes later, he spied two teenage boys picking up trash. He recognized them. One was named Kevin, yet the chief couldn’t recall his last name. He remembered Kevin had been one of the teenagers who had found Danielle’s cousin, Cheryl, when she had been passed out in the beach hut before being murdered.

  The other boy, Steve Potts, had gotten into some trouble after Sean Kelley had accidentally burned down Presley House a couple of Halloweens past, and it was learned Steve had been the one to take Sean to the house.

  “Hello, boys,” the chief greeted them when he got out of his car. They stopped what they were doing and walked over to him, each carrying a large leaf bag in one hand.

  “Hello, Chief MacDonald. Are we doing something wrong?” Kevin asked.

  “I don’t know, are you?” MacDonald asked with a chuckle.

  Kevin shrugged.

  Steve rolled his eyes at Kevin and then looked at the chief and asked, “You here to see Pastor Chad?”

  “Yes. Is he around?”

  “He went to get something at the store. He should be back pretty soon.”

  The chief nodded and then looked the teenagers up and down. “So Pastor Chad has you cleaning up around the church?”

  Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah, we do this every Saturday.”

  “We do a lot of odd jobs for Pastor Chad. The other day we took him over to Marlow House to pick up some paintings and boxes for the museum. Have you ever been in that place?” Kevin asked.

  “Of course he has,” Steve said impatiently. “He’s the police chief.”

  Kevin scowled at Steve. “Doesn’t mean he’s been in Marlow House.”

  “Considering the number of murders over there, I bet all the cops in town have been through that place.”

  “I still think it looks cool inside,” Kevin mumbled.

  “Ah, so you were the ones who picked up the paintings. Danielle told me Pastor Chad picked them up. You also grabbed the boxes, I understand.”

  Steve shrugged. “Some old wooden boxes. Pastor Chad told us we were just getting some paintings, but at the last minute he told us to take the boxes.”

  “So it was his idea to take them?” the chief asked.

  Steve frowned. “It sure wasn’t mine.”

  Kevin pointed to the car driving into the parking lot. “Hey, there he is now!”

  Pastor Chad pulled into the space next to the police car and parked. He turned off the ignition and got out of his vehicle. “Afternoon, Chief. Any word on Beverly’s attacker?”

  “Nothing I can discuss at this time,” the chief said.

  “Does that mean you know something?” Steve asked.

  The chief looked at Steve and said, “It’s an open investigation. I can’t really discuss it.”

  “Is she gunna be okay?” Steve asked. “I heard she got out of the hospital yesterday.”

  “It looks like it,” the chief said.

  “What’ll happen to the guy who attacked her?” Steve asked.

  “Assault with a deadly weapon is a serious offense,” the chief said.

  Steve frowned. “I heard you didn’t find what he hit her with. How do you know it’s a deadly weapon?”

  The chief arched his brows at Steve. “Because it could have killed her.”

  “Why don’t you boys go back to your work so I can talk to the chief in private,” Pastor Chad said.

  With a grumble the boys walked away and went back to picking up trash and leaves.

  “They aren’t bad boys,” Chad said. “They just need to be kept busy. Their parents make them give the church so many hours a week—which I appreciate. But they don’t get paid. So I try to help them find side jobs with some of the congregation.”

  “How does that work out?”

  Chad chuckled. “Sometimes good, sometimes not so much. In fact, when Beverly mentioned she was looking for someone to help her with yard work, I sent Steve over there. But I guess it didn’t work out.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “A couple of weeks. Why?”

  “I just asked Beverly if she’d had any problems with anyone lately—”

  “No,” Chad interrupted, shaking his head. “It was nothing like that—not if you’re wondering if Steve had anything to do with what happened to Beverly. It was nothing more than him going over to talk to her and he wasn’t able to help her with whatever she needed done. There were no hard feelings on Steve’s part. Beverly might have been annoyed, but no. Nothing like what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m just trying to figure out who might have some issue with Beverly. Do you know of any problem she might have had with anyone recently?”

  “Not really. She’s been coming to church more since Steve passed away. She seems to get along with everyone, but I don’t think she’s particularly close to anyone. I was happy to hear she was dating Brian. I think she’s been getting lonely.”

  “I wanted to ask you about those boxes.”

  Chad stared a moment at the chief. He blinked several times and then asked, “What boxes?”

  “Those apple boxes you picked up from Marlow House.”

  “Oh, those. What about them?”

  “Why did you take them? I understand you picked them up by mistake when you got the paintings.”

  Pastor Chad smiled and then glanced over to the teenagers, who were now on the other side of the church parking lot. He looked back to the chief and shrugged. “They were sitting by the closet where Danielle kept the paintings. The boys must have thought they were supposed to take the boxes too. When I got back to the museum and realized I had them, Ben called Danielle immediately and volunteered to have someone bring them right back. Why do you ask?”

  The chief shrugged. “No reason. I was just curious.”

  Twenty-Seven

  After work on Saturday Brian stopped by Beverly’s house to see how she was doing. She led him into the kitchen, where he took a seat at the breakfast bar while she grabbed him a beer from the refrigerator.

  “The chief stopped by today, asking me more questions,” Beverly told him as she set the beer on the counter before him. “To be honest, I’m surprised he’s personally involved in this case. I would assume you’d be handling it since you were the one who found me.”

  “He’s concerned our relationship might interfere with the investigation,” he suggested.

  Beverly arched her brows. “How’s that?”

  “He knows we’ve been seeing each other. He’s afraid I won’t be objective.”

  “Not sure what being objective has to do with anything. After all, I was the one who was attacked,” she reminded him.

  He shrugged. “It’s pretty standard.”

  “I suppose.” Beverly let out a sigh and wandered back to the refrigerator and opened it. She looked inside. “There is nothing in here.”

  “Have you had dinner yet?”

  “No.” She closed the refrigerator and turned back to Brian.

  “Why don’t you let me take you out?”

  She glanced down at her casual clothes. “Okay, but nothing fancy. I’m too tired to change my clothes.”

  Brian flashed her a grin. “You always look wonderful.”

  “You’re sweet. But a burger or sandwich would be fine with me,” she said.

  “What about Pier Café?” The moment the suggestion popped out of his mouth, he regretted it.

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not really crazy about that place.”

  “No problem. Lucy’s Diner?” he suggested.

  “I used to li
ke Pier Café.” She walked to Brian and rested her elbows on the countertop. “Quality control over there has really slipped.”

  “It has?” Brian hadn’t noticed any problem with the restaurant.

  “I heard from a friend, they found a hair in their food last week. And it wasn’t the first time. In fact, I’ve been told that by a number of people,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper.

  “Hair?” Brian remembered what Carla had told them.

  “It wasn’t just any hair. I heard it was pink. Tacky dyed hair.”

  Saturday evening, Danielle’s guests weren’t any more social than they had been after breakfast. If they weren’t in their rooms, they were out exploring Frederickport and the nearby areas. Since Marlow House only included breakfast, Danielle’s guests had left for the evening to find someplace to eat dinner.

  Danielle joined Walt in the parlor, bringing them each a slice of homemade fudge cake she had baked. “I thought you might be ready for something sweet,” Danielle said as she set the tray on the desk. It held two plated slices of cake and two glasses of ice-cold milk.

  Walt, who sat in the office chair facing the open file cabinet, swiveled around to face Danielle. Remaining in the chair, he pushed himself toward the desk. “I’m always ready for your cake.” He looked down at the two slices and then asked, “Aren’t you going to have some?”

  Danielle chuckled and handed him one plate. “Funny. You don’t get two pieces.” She then picked up the second plate for herself. “Anyway, I would be shocked if you could eat two pieces considering how much you had for dinner.”

  “You would be surprised. After all, it’s been almost a hundred years since I had any cake.” He stabbed his piece with a fork and took a bite.

  “You had some this afternoon,” she reminded him.

  He shrugged and said, “I meant before I came home from the hospital.”

  “Walt, if you keep eating so much, you’re going to get fat,” she teased.

  “It’s your own fault for being such a good cook. Which only goes to show those magazines of Lily’s I used to read didn’t know what they were talking about.”