by Bobbi Holmes
Brian was just driving away when Lily and Ian walked into Marlow House with baby Connor, and Sadie their golden retriever trailing behind them. In spite of the recent break-in, Danielle had not bothered to lock the front door after she had walked Brian out. The Bartleys walked in without knocking, seeing nothing unusual about the door being unlocked. They were just heading to the living room when they walked by the open doorway to the downstairs bedroom and spied Danielle in the room, returning boxes to the closet, while all the dresser drawers were pulled out.
“Did you lose something?” Lily asked, stepping into the room with her wiggling bundle.
“No. I’m just trying to put things back in order,” Danielle explained, now closing the dresser drawers.
“What’s going on?” Ian asked from the doorway.
“While we were up at Chris’s, someone broke in Marlow House, ransacked the downstairs. They went through every room on the first floor, like they were looking for something, but nothing seems to have been touched on the second floor or in our room.”
“What’s missing?” Ian asked.
Danielle shrugged. “That’s just it. We haven’t noticed anything yet. I have no clue what they were looking for. Walt, Heather and I are putting the rooms back in order. Chris is in the living room, drowning his sorrows. Why don’t you go on in there and keep him company. I’ll just be a minute. Have you eaten yet?”
“No, we were wondering if you wanted us to pick up some takeout,” Lily asked.
“I was going to make something, but considering how this day is going, I think takeout might be a better option.” Danielle walked over to Lily and gave Connor a quick kiss. The baby giggled.
Chris sat on one of the chairs facing the sofa, sipping the brandy Walt had given him. His friends discussed what they wanted to eat while he questioned his own good sense drinking the brandy, considering he hadn’t eaten in hours. Emotionally drained, he unintentionally tuned out the others while his mind sorted all that needed to be done now that he was technically homeless.
“I said give me your credit card,” Heather demanded for the second time.
Jolted out of his fog, Chris looked up and found Heather standing over him, her hand out, waiting for him to comply with her demand.
“My credit card?” He frowned. “Oh, for the food, of course.” He stood briefly and removed his wallet.
“No, silly. Not for the food. Ian said he was treating,” Heather said with an impatient eye roll.
“Then what do you need my credit card for?” Chris asked while handing her the card. He tucked his wallet back in his pocket and sat back down.
“Weren’t you listening?” Heather asked.
“I guess not.”
“I said, while they get the food, I’ll run out and get you some things you’re going to need. You are obviously going to need clothes and basic toiletries until you have time to shop. I imagine you are going to want to take a shower tonight and will want something clean to put on. While you might like to sleep in the buff—which I have no idea if you do or not—I don’t imagine Walt will appreciate you prancing around his house naked.”
“I do not prance,” Chris argued.
“Yes, please spare me the prancing nude Chris,” Walt called out.
“You’ll need something to wear in the morning,” Heather added.
“You don’t have to do that,” Chris said, starting to stand up. “I should go get some clothes before all the stores close.”
Heather pushed him back in the chair. “Don’t be silly. You are having a bad day as it is, and you just downed a glass of brandy and are on your second; I don’t think you want to be pulled over for a DUI.”
“Heather has a point,” Ian chimed in.
“Anyway, I am your assistant. Isn’t this the kind of thing an assistant does?” Heather asked.
“I don’t know…” Chris murmured.
“Anyway, however long it takes me, I was planning to add it to my timecard.” Heather slipped the credit card in her purse.
“You don’t have a timecard,” Chris reminded her. “I pay you a salary.”
“There is always the Christmas bonus,” Heather reminded him with a smile. From her purse she pulled out a pen and small pad of paper and handed them to Chris.
“What is this for?” Chris asked.
“Write down your sizes—and anything you need that I might not think of.”
After Heather left a few minutes later, Danielle told Chris, “When she gets back, I’ll throw your new clothes in the wash.”
“Why? Is Heather going to buy me dirty clothes?” Chris asked.
“Eww, you have to wash your new clothes,” Lily said. “You never know who might have tried them on.”
Lily went with Ian to pick up the food, leaving Connor behind with Danielle. Connor napped on the sofa between Walt and Danielle, stretched out on a baby blanket. Sadie and Hunny dozed nearby on the floor. Max had come down from the attic bedroom and now perched on the back of the sofa, looking down at Connor, while Walt silently warned him not to wake the baby.
Chris sat in one of the chairs across from them, sipping his second brandy. He looked up at Walt and Danielle and said, “I just thought of something. My brother is coming tomorrow for Christmas, and I don’t have a house. I suppose I should call Adam and see if he has something for me to rent. After all, I’m going to need to find something anyway.”
“Why don’t you just stay here?” Walt suggested. “At least through Christmas, while your brother is here. It will give you time to figure out what you want to do.”
“Stay here?” Chris asked.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Danielle said. “It’s not like we don’t have plenty of room. Hunny would be happy here. And maybe having a pit bull might discourage future break-ins.”
“Because we all know what a ferocious guard dog Hunny is,” Walt said with a snort.
“I have to admit, the idea of moving into a vacation rental for Christmas does not really appeal to me, especially since my brother is going to be here. But staying at Marlow House for the holidays—I kind of like that idea. If it really is okay,” Chris said.
“For some reason the idea of you moving back in here for a while does not annoy me near as much as it once would have,” Walt said dryly.
“Perhaps that’s because you got the girl?” Chris teased.
“That and the fact it will drive Pearl Huckabee insane knowing you are living here with Hunny,” Walt said.
Eleven
Onetime silent screen star Eva Thorndike had been dead for a little over a century. One thing that she had learned since moving over to the other side was that she was something of an anomaly. After death, most spirits chose to move on to the next level, leaving behind their earthly constraints. It was typically the confused souls, the ones who hadn’t come to terms with their deaths, who lingered. Yet even in those cases, Eva found, long-term lingerers were rare.
Death had never confused Eva. She had expected it, considering her debilitating illness had struck at such a young age. At first she had railed against it—determined to live her dream, which in many ways she had—rising to the top in her chosen profession. It was her anger at such an early death, one that had prevented her from reaching her full potential—a transition to talkies—that kept her from moving on.
Her life now—or more accurately her death—had become much more amusing the last few years. Beach Drive had become something of a magnet for mediums, giving her more than the lingering dead to communicate with. And then there was Marie, someone she had met in her early days as a ghost. Of course, back then Marie had been a baby and had no idea the beautiful woman who would visit her in the nursery and sing her lullabies was a ghost. Then one day Marie—just like that—could no longer see or hear her.
Years went by, Marie got older, and one day at the age of ninety-one, Marie found herself murdered and then a ghost. Like Eva, she decided to stick around, which gave the two spirits an opportunit
y to reconnect.
Eva had just left Marie, who was heading over to Marlow House, while Eva went on to check in on Chris. Eva rather adored Chris—what was there not to like? Had he been alive back during her heyday as an actress, she could easily imagine him as her leading man. Women would have adored him—women did adore him.
Many of Chris’s close Frederickport friends assumed he had been so busy with his foundation that he had little time for a social life. Some even speculated he might still be pining over Danielle. Yet Eva knew the truth. Chris often escorted beautiful women out to dinner and the theater when traveling for the foundation—and sometimes he would drive into Portland for a date with some young woman he had met. However, he had not found anyone whom he cared enough about to share his real identity with. Eva was beginning to wonder if he ever would.
It took her a moment to comprehend what she was seeing. Chris’s house—it was virtually gone, a sad heap of scorched timber and ash. Ignoring the ‘no trespassing’ signs someone had erected, she moved through what had once been Chris’s home. As dismal as it seemed, she didn’t imagine he had been killed in the fire—if that was the case, then she would have expected to see his spirit. She couldn’t imagine him moving on without first saying goodbye to his friends. Although, maybe that was exactly what he was doing right now, over at Marlow House saying goodbye. Another possibility, he had been injured and was at the hospital.
The next moment Eva found herself standing in the kitchen of Marlow House. Sitting at the kitchen table were Walt, Danielle and Marie.
“Where is Chris?” Eva demanded.
“They were just telling me what happened,” Marie told her.
“He’s still sleeping. We put him in the downstairs bedroom last night,” Danielle explained as she sipped her morning coffee.
The next moment Marie moved the empty chair out from the table so Eva could sit down without the tabletop cutting her image in half. Eva accepted the silent invitation.
“What happened?” Eva asked.
Danielle went on to tell about yesterday’s series of events.
When Danielle finished with the telling, Eva asked, “What is he going to do?”
“For now he’s staying here, at least through Christmas. His brother is coming this afternoon. I’m fairly certain he’ll decide to rebuild on his lot,” Danielle explained.
Danielle’s cellphone began to ring. She picked it up off the table and looked to see who was calling—it was Joanne, their housekeeper.
“Hi, Joanne,” Danielle said the next moment, holding her cellphone to her ear. The others at the kitchen table sat quietly and listened.
“Is it true what I heard? Did Chris’s house burn down?” Joanne asked.
“Unfortunately. But he is okay. No one was hurt. We put him in the downstairs bedroom.”
“Oh dear, I didn’t have any sheets on that bed,” Joanne fretted.
“No problem. I gave Chris some clean sheets and helped him put them on the bed,” Danielle explained. “But I guess I’ll need to put some sheets on one of the beds upstairs. His brother is coming for Christmas, and they’ll be staying here now.”
“I’m coming over there. I’ll get the room ready for Chris’s brother. I’d like to run the vacuum before he arrives. And why don’t you text me a grocery list. I’m sure you’re going to need some more food.”
“But today is your day off,” Danielle argued.
“Don’t be silly. I want to do this. What about that list?”
Danielle smiled. “Okay, I’ll get Walt to help me make a list, and I’ll send it to you. You are wonderful, Joanne. We’re going to Pearl Cove in about thirty minutes for brunch. Would you like to join us? My treat.”
“I need to get the house ready for guests! You all go and have fun, but don’t forget to text me what you need.”
Danielle hung up the phone a few minutes later and chuckled. “I think Joanne was rather excited at the prospect of having guests here.”
“I believe she misses the B and B,” Walt said.
Marcella pushed her now empty breakfast plate to the middle of the table. She sat with her husband at a booth in Pier Café. Glancing over at the lunch counter, she spied the elderly man from the room next to theirs at the Seahorse Motel. He sat alone with just a cup of coffee. An empty chair separated him from a bearded man she was fairly certain was also staying at their motel. Like the elderly gentleman, he appeared to be alone.
“Should we walk over to the house? Maybe we’ll be lucky and they won’t be home,” Forrest suggested.
Before Marcella answered, she spied a woman entering the diner. She watched the woman take a seat across the room before saying, “I think this might be an excellent time to go over. Look who just walked in.”
Forrest glanced to where Marcella was looking. It was the Marlows’ grouchy neighbor.
“Hopefully she came for breakfast and will be here a while. If so, I know exactly what we need to do,” Marcella said.
Forrest glanced from the woman back to his wife. “What’s that?”
“We should be able to look up the street and see if any cars are parked in front of Marlow House. If not, we can walk up through the alley and look in the window of their garage. If their car is gone, then we can safely assume we can go in the house.”
“What happens if one of them took the car—and the other one stayed home?” he asked.
Marcella considered the question a moment. “If both of their cars are there, then we know for sure we can’t go in. But if one of them is gone, you can walk around to the front door and ring the bell. If someone answers, you can ask them some lame tourist question. But if no one answers, then we can go right in. But we should go now, while the old busybody is here.”
Colin fidgeted with his coffee cup as he watched the Hoopers hurriedly pay their bill and rush from the diner. He glanced over his shoulder at Pearl Huckabee and muttered under his breath, “Going for another try?”
“Excuse me?” the man next to him said.
Colin looked up at Owen and smiled. “Sorry, I was just talking to myself.”
Owen flashed him a smile and said, “I’ve been doing a bit of that myself lately.” Owen stood up, pulled some money from his pocket, and tossed it on the counter. He gave Colin a parting nod.
Still fidgeting with his coffee cup, Colin watched Owen leave the restaurant. He shook his head. “Still in conflict, are you, boy? I guess you’re going to need me.”
The Hoopers had glanced up the street after stepping off the pier, but saw no cars parked by Marlow House. They continued to the alleyway. When they reached the back of Marlow House, Marcella was about to go peek in the garage window when they noticed the garage door opening. Forrest grabbed hold of his wife’s wrist and dragged her into some nearby bushes.
Hidden among the foliage, the Hoopers watched as the black Packard backed out of the garage. After the vehicle was completely outside, the door closed. A moment later the Packard drove by Marcella and Forrest, who continued to crouch in the bushes.
“Did you see that!” Marcella whispered. “They were both in the car.”
“Now what?” he asked.
“Let’s go through the backyard. Doesn’t look like the gate is locked. With the neighbor gone, there’s no one to see us. If we’re lucky, that key will also work on the kitchen door. Otherwise, we’re going to have to go around to the front door,” Marcella told her husband.
“Let’s hope it works,” he whispered.
Marcella had slipped on her gloves after leaving the diner. Considering the weather, she doubted anyone would find it odd. To her delight the key worked on the back door, as it had on the front door.
“You want me to go in with you?” he asked.
“No. Stay out here and watch to see if anyone comes. If that neighbor returns, come in the house, and we can go out the front door. But keep an eye on the front of the house as well as the back.”
“I hope I can watch everything,” he said nervously.<
br />
“Just do it!” she snapped before slipping into the kitchen.
Marcella stood in Marlow House’s kitchen and glanced around. The first thing she noticed, they had obviously put the house back to normal. All the drawers and cabinets were shut. Her plan was to go quickly through the first floor, see if there were any packages that hadn’t been there yesterday—yet this time she didn’t intend to go through all the cabinets. She would look under the tree to see if any packages had been added before going upstairs to look around.
From the kitchen she slipped out into the hallway and looked in the living room. There were no packages under the Christmas tree. From the living room she walked into the downstairs bedroom and looked around quickly. She was surprised to find a number of shopping bags piled in one corner. They hadn’t been there yesterday.
Kneeling on the floor by the shopping bags, she started going through them when she heard what sounded like a low growl. She froze. The growling sound grew louder.
Swallowing nervously, Marcella slowly turned around to face the open doorway. To her utter horror she found herself looking into the menacing eyes of a brindle pit bull.
“Holy crap,” Marcella said with a gulp.
The dog continued to stare at her, no longer making the ominous sound.
“Nice doggie,” she said in a wavering voice, slowly standing up.
The pit bull cocked its head slightly, studying her.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Marcella forced herself to speak in a soft, calm voice, one reserved for speaking to toddlers you were trying to win over. “Hi, sweet baby. You are a good doggie, aren’t you?”
