The Ghost Who Dream Hopped

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “I think I know what Kevin hit Beverly with.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This looks like dried blood in the end of this flashlight—and if I am not mistaken, the hair stuck to it looks like the same color as Beverly’s,” Heather explained.

  Olivia had just stepped into the front entry of the foundation offices to retrieve Kevin’s cellphone when she heard a woman say, “I think I know what Kevin hit Beverly with.” The teenager stood frozen, hidden from view, and listened to the conversation. Just as the woman mentioned the hair, Olivia glanced down and found a pit bull staring at her. In the next moment she turned and took off running out the front door. Fortunately for her, the dog did not chase her outside, but she did stand in the open doorway barking.

  Thirty-Seven

  Tears streaked down Olivia’s face as she ran down the street away from the Glandon Foundation offices. She couldn’t go home, not feeling as she did. What would her parents say? As it was, they were going to flip out when they learned Kevin had been arrested. She could practically hear her mother now, “We told you that boy was no good! That’s why we wouldn’t let you see him. We were right!”

  Olivia desperately needed to talk to someone, and the only one she trusted was her sister, Barbara. By the time she reached her sister’s house, she had stopped crying. Standing at the front door, she wiped the tears from her face and rang the doorbell. There was no answer. Olivia’s heart sank.

  She walked to the garage and peeked in the side window, and just as she feared, there was no car inside. Her sister must still be at work. Walking back to the front door, Olivia sat dejected on the front porch and wondered what they were going to do. Kevin would probably be charged with attempted murder, and that damn flashlight would be used against him. Why didn’t he get rid of it? He had promised he had cleaned it. Obviously not very well.

  She sat there a few minutes when she noticed something tucked under the front mat. Reaching over, she grabbed it and pulled it out. It was an envelope from BeachFastPhoto addressed to her. The mailman had obviously left it there. With a confused frown she hastily opened it. She couldn’t imagine it was the photos she had ordered, they shouldn’t be arriving until tomorrow at the very earliest.

  Once she tore open the envelope, she slid out several eleven-by-fourteen-inch prints. They were the pictures she had taken in Beverly’s backyard. She stared at them a moment, wondering at the bizarre coincidence that these should arrive early—on the same day Kevin was arrested for attacking Beverly. She sat there a moment when an idea came to her. There was only one person who could save Kevin now, and that was Beverly Klein. Olivia jumped up and started running again.

  When the chief walked into the police station with Kevin, he told one of his officers to put the teenager in lockup after processing him. He wouldn’t be interrogated until his parents and attorney arrived. When given his rights and being put in the back of the squad car, Kevin had informed the chief he wasn’t saying another word without his attorney present.

  “I need you to run over to the Glandon Foundation Headquarters,” the chief told Joe after calling him and Brian to his office ten minutes later.

  “What for?” Joe asked.

  “I think Chris found the weapon Kevin used to hit Beverly. You need to pick it up. Unfortunately, it also has Heather’s prints all over it now,” the chief explained.

  “You really think Kevin is the one who hit her?” Brian asked after Joe left.

  “According to Steve Potts, Kevin was the one she hired, and she refused to pay him. I think he went over there to mess up her garage in retaliation for her stiffing him, and then when she walked in, he panicked and hit her with his flashlight.”

  “Flashlight?” Brian frowned.

  “That’s what I just sent Joe to get. I need you to bring Beverly in. I’d like to get a formal statement from her about the altercation she had with Kevin. So far, all I have is hearsay, and nothing from an eyewitness.”

  When Beverly returned from the grocery store, she pulled up her driveway and parked her car. She wasn’t finished organizing her garage, and she found it easier without the car parked inside.

  With two plastic bags of groceries hanging from one wrist, she fumbled to unlock the screen door leading into the garage. She had left the other door open, only closing and locking the screen door. Just as she started to walk into the garage, she heard a voice call, “Mrs. Klein! I need to talk to you.”

  Beverly turned around and found Olivia Nash running up her driveway, a purse slung over one shoulder while holding a large white cardboard envelope. “Hello, Olivia.”

  Motioning to the groceries, Beverly told the teenager she would be right back, as soon as she set her groceries and purse in the kitchen. When Beverly returned to the garage five minutes later, Olivia wasn’t waiting outside by the garage door. Instead, she stood in the middle of the garage.

  “What did you need to talk to me about, Olivia?” Beverly asked. “I hope it’s not about that boy you’re seeing. I don’t think your parents would be happy to know you’re going against their wishes and still seeing him.”

  With shaky hands, Olivia pulled one of the eleven-by-fourteen-inch prints from the envelope and shoved it at Beverly. “I want you to see this.”

  Reluctantly, Beverly took the photograph and looked at it. She frowned. It was a close-up picture of Kevin holding an empty can of crabmeat to his face while grinning into the camera.

  “What is this?” Beverly asked dully.

  “I know what you did,” Olivia said in a shaky voice.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.’’ Beverly calmly handed the picture back to Olivia.

  “There’s more! I know what you did!” Olivia shoved the envelope at Beverly.

  While Olivia trembled and seemed barely capable of holding herself together, Beverly displayed supreme calm. As if bored, she slipped the rest of the prints from the envelope and began flipping through them. Beverly’s eyes betrayed her emotions when they widened in surprise at the remaining prints. She said nothing; she just stared.

  “You killed him. You put crabmeat in your husband’s food. Then you buried the can in the backyard. That’s why you were so mad at Kevin. He dug up the wrong part of the garden. He wasn’t supposed to dig there, because that’s where you buried the can.”

  Beverly let out a sigh and tucked the prints back in the envelope. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Maybe you don’t know, but I believe Police Chief MacDonald will know. It’s your backyard. Kevin found the can buried there. Who buries garbage in their backyard? Unless you don’t want someone to find it.”

  “Olivia, is this about me not paying your boyfriend?”

  Olivia’s words tumbled out. She could barely contain herself. “If you look really close at one of those pictures, you can see the expiration date on the can. I bet that other number is some identification number, and the police will be able to track where that can came from. Maybe you even paid for it on your credit card, and it’ll show up on some receipt they have saved in a cloud somewhere!”

  “What do you want, Olivia?” Beverly asked tonelessly.

  “The police arrested Kevin. They think he’s the one who hit you.”

  Beverly started laughing. “So that’s who attacked me? That worthless boyfriend of yours. You should have listened to your parents. He’s no good. He’s going to jail for a long time.”

  “So are you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Beverly frowned.

  “If Kevin goes to jail, then I’m going to make sure the police get these pictures. You’re going to prison too. But you’re going for murder. Considering Kevin’s age, the fact he doesn’t have a record, and since he didn’t actually kill someone like you did, he will be getting out years before you do.”

  “Are you blackmailing me?” Beverly asked.

  “If you don’t want to go to prison, then you need to tell the police Kevin wasn�
�t the one who hit you. I don’t know—maybe say you saw the person who attacked you and that it wasn’t him.”

  Beverly stared dumbfounded at the teenager who had the audacity to threaten her. She then glanced over to the nearby workbench and remembered Steve’s gun she had recently taken out of the safe in the garage. It was loaded. Steve always kept the gun loaded. From where Olivia stood, she couldn’t see the gun.

  Beverly flashed Olivia a smile and then strolled toward the workbench. “And if I do this, how do I know you’ll destroy the photographs?”

  “I’ll give you the password to my BeachFastPhoto account. You can go online and delete them after I know Kevin won’t be charged for your attack.”

  Now near the workbench, Beverly glanced over her shoulder and asked, “What about what’s on your computer? How do I know you’ll destroy those?”

  “I don’t even have a computer. I uploaded the files directly from my camera to the website. They’re not on my camera anymore, just on the website.”

  Beverly moved so quickly that it took Olivia a moment to realize what had happened. One minute Beverly was quizzing her about the photographs and the next she was pointing a handgun at her.

  “Are you going to shoot me?” Olivia gasped.

  “I really should,” Beverly purred. “But if you’re a good girl and delete those images, then maybe I’ll let you walk out of here.”

  “What about Kevin?”

  “Don’t be silly. Kevin attacked me, and he needs to be punished for that.”

  “How do I know you’ll let me go if I delete those photos?” Olivia’s voice shook, her eyes locked on the gun pointed at her head.

  “You don’t, dear. But I think it will be much more trouble to bury you in my flower garden than it was the can. Once those pictures are destroyed, I don’t care who you tell about them. No one will believe you. And you’ll probably end up going to jail with your boyfriend because then everyone will think you were in on it—in fact, maybe you were even here when he hit me. Maybe he wasn’t the one who hit me. Maybe it was you?”

  Brian pulled up in front of Beverly’s house and noticed her car parked in the driveway. At first he was going to go to the front door, but he remembered Beverly telling him she was planning to sort through some more boxes this afternoon in the garage. He changed course and headed straight for the side door. When he was a few feet away, he noticed the side door open, with its screen door shut. He could hear music coming from the garage. Beverly had the radio on.

  He assumed it was too loud for her to hear his knock, so he just walked in, calling her name as he did.

  Brian had walked about six feet inside the garage when he came to an abrupt halt. There was Beverly standing holding a handgun. At first it was pointed at a teenage girl—Olivia Nash. It took a moment for Brian to recognize the girl. Startled at seeing Brian, Beverly moved the gun so that it was now pointed at him.

  “Oh dear,” Beverly said. “This certainly complicates things.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Brian demanded.

  Beverly glanced nervously at Olivia, who appeared frozen to the spot, and then looked back at Brian. She smiled and moved the gun so that it was pointed at Olivia.

  “This girl tried to attack me,” Beverly said. “Her boyfriend, Kevin, is the one who attacked me.”

  “That’s why I’m here. Put down the gun, Beverly. You could hurt someone.”

  “She’s lying!” Olivia cried, holding out the envelope for Brian. “Look at the pictures! She killed her husband!”

  Beverly let out a disgusted sigh and then pointed the gun back at Brian. “Now you’ve gone and done it. Stupid girl.”

  Thirty-Eight

  Walt pulled his stockinged feet up on the living room sofa, tucked a throw pillow under his head, and lay back. He was only there a minute when he felt something jump up on the couch with him. It was Max. Walt glanced down and watched as the black cat nonchalantly strolled up his body and then stretched out on his chest. Max tucked his head under Walt’s chin.

  “I hope you’re comfortable.” Walt chuckled.

  The cat began to purr. Walt sneezed.

  “You catching a cold?” Danielle asked as she walked into the living room.

  “Cat hair.” Walt wiggled his nose and stroked the cat’s fur away from his face. “It seems Max likes that he can now make himself at home on me. Unfortunately, I had forgotten how cat hair makes me sneeze.” As if to prove the point, he sneezed again.

  “I was wondering, would you mind if we left a few minutes early for your doctor’s appointment? I’d like to stop at Beverly’s.”

  Walt lifted his head slightly, peering over the cat to Danielle. “Why?”

  “I want to drop those checks off to her. I feel funny having them. Plus, once I get rid of them, then I really won’t have a reason to see her again.”

  “Has the chief made any headway on the case against her?” Walt asked.

  “I don’t think so.” Danielle walked to the chair across from Walt and flopped down. “To be honest, since her attack I think all his attention has been on finding the attacker. I don’t blame him. That’s more an immediate threat to the community—Beverly isn’t.”

  “Perhaps Beverly isn’t a threat to the community, just to people who cross her,” Walt said. “And considering Brian Henderson’s temperament, he should tread lightly; he’s bound to make her angry one of these days.”

  “Brian’s not that bad,” Danielle insisted.

  “You’re too forgiving. Personally, I haven’t forgotten how he treated you when Cheryl was killed—or that Stoddard debacle and manhandling Lily…or for—”

  “I get it!” Danielle interrupted. “Brian can be a little narrow focused, but he’s come a long way.”

  “I’m not sure he’s come a long way, as you say, as much as he simply changed his opinion on you.”

  “I’m just glad he did, and now we need to get him to change his opinion on you.” Danielle grinned.

  Walt sat up and gently moved Max off his chest. “You just want everyone to get along, don’t you?”

  Danielle shrugged. “It just makes things so much easier.” She glanced at her watch and added, “We should probably leave in a few minutes if we’re going to drop those checks off at Beverly’s before your doctor’s appointment.”

  When Danielle pulled in front of Beverly’s house and parked, she noticed Brian’s car.

  “We were just talking about him,” Danielle said as she turned off the ignition.

  “Obviously the chief hasn’t passed on to Brian the story of the potato salad.”

  “Even if he did, it doesn’t mean Brian would believe it. But I doubt he told him.” Danielle unhooked her seatbelt.

  Walt sat in the passenger seat and watched as Danielle opened her purse and removed the envelope with the checks. She then set the purse between the seats and opened her door.

  Just before stepping out of the car, Danielle said, “I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t take any tamales or potatoes salad.”

  She flashed him a grin and got out of the car.

  Danielle sprinted up to the front door. She just wanted to drop off the checks and leave as quickly as possible. Next to the front door was the large picture window looking into the living room. Its blind was open. Danielle peeked inside. She didn’t see anyone. From her vantage point she could get a slight glimpse into the kitchen, but there didn’t seem to be any motion there.

  Just about to ring the bell, Danielle paused. What if they are…in the bedroom? She hadn’t even considered that possibility when she first saw Brian’s car in front of the house. Danielle cringed. That would be too embarrassing. She turned from the front door without ringing the bell and headed back to her car.

  She was halfway down the front walk when she remembered Brian had been helping Beverly clean her garage. Perhaps his visit was less sexy and more handyman. Wanting to get rid of the checks, Danielle decided to go around to the garage and see if t
hey were in there.

  Envelope in hand, Danielle quickly made her way to the side of the house. En route there she glanced over to her car and Walt. She pointed to let him know where she was going. Danielle was about ten feet from the side door into the garage when she noticed it was open, with the security screen door shut. Sitting outside the door, looking in the garage, was a large white fluffy cat. Danielle wondered briefly if it was the neighbor’s. She was fairly certain Beverly didn’t have any pets.

  She was a few feet from the door when she heard music coming from inside. Just as she reached the door, she peeked in through the screen. It obviously wasn’t a romantic rendezvous, Danielle thought. She saw Brian standing in the middle of the garage, and a few feet away was another person. It wasn’t Beverly. She didn’t see Beverly.

  Doubting they would hear her knock over the music, she didn’t think it would hurt to simply go in and give Beverly the checks so she could leave. “Hi. Hope I’m not disturbing you, but I wanted to drop these off.”

  Danielle was a good six feet into the garage when she noticed Beverly. She was standing by the workbench—pointing a gun in her direction. Danielle froze. Her first thought wasn’t that Beverly had gone on some killer’s rampage, more that she was probably showing Brian her gun, and when Danielle had barged in, she had startled her. Good way to get yourself killed, Danielle thought, especially since Beverly was recently attacked.

  “Yikes, don’t shoot!” Danielle said with nervous humor.

  To Danielle’s surprise, Beverly didn’t lower the gun. Instead, she reached over and turned off the radio, sending the garage into eerie silence.

  “Danielle, I want you to shut and lock the door, now,” Beverly demanded.

  Confused, Danielle glanced over to Brian and the other person, trying to understand what was going on. She hadn’t seen their faces before, but now she could see them. The other person was actually a teenage girl, and at the moment tears streamed down her cheeks. Brian’s face was as white as the cat outside, and he looked at her as if trying to convey a warning.