Haunting Danielle 20-The Ghost Who Was Says I Do

by Holmes, Bobbi

  “How would you do that?” Danielle asked.

  “I can always stop by their real estate offices under the pretense of looking for property. See if I can find out anything about them. Schmooze a little. Mention I know Clint.”

  “I would be curious to find out if Claudia and Clint actually dated before Stephanie, or what the relationship was between Dirk and Clint.” Danielle stood up and walked to the desk. “Before you go, maybe I should Google this Jay Larson character.”

  A few minutes later, Danielle sat at the desk with her laptop on. Chris stood behind her, looking over her shoulder, while Eva lounged on the sofa, again filing her nails.

  “Here’s an article on a Jay Larson from Huntington Beach. He was murdered this past May in Los Angeles,” Danielle said while focusing her attention on the computer monitor. “He could be the one Dirk was talking about.”

  “That’s good news for Walt; whatever this is about, it’s not about Clint killing the guy. Back in May, Walt was here stumbling around in a cast,” Chris noted. “Does it say who killed Larson?”

  “According to the article, it was a mugging. Hold on, let me see something.” Danielle searched a few more minutes and then said, “It’s still unsolved. According to one of the articles, Larson was a real estate appraiser.”

  UPSTAIRS, Claudia paced the bedroom while her sister sat silently on one of the two chairs in the room, reading Moon Runners. Marie sat on the other chair, wondering if the chief would be able to help Walt determine the status of Claudia’s claim. But since it was Saturday, she didn’t imagine they would be able to find out much today.

  Rachel closed the book and looked up at her sister. “I don’t know who wrote Moon Runners, but it really is a good book.”

  “It wasn’t Clint,” Claudia snapped as she walked to the window and looked down at the street.

  “Can we go do something?” Rachel asked. “I can finish this book tonight. I would really like to get out today.”

  “I suppose we could do a little sightseeing,” Claudia suggested as she gazed out the window.

  “Maybe we could find someplace to have lunch. I would love a bowl of clam chowder.”

  Still looking out the window, Claudia caught sight of a man standing by the front gate, looking up at the house. She frowned. “Hey, Rachel, didn’t you mention you saw a pair of binoculars in here?”

  “Yeah. Over there.” Rachel pointed to the shelf with the cat figurine.

  Not budging from the window, Claudia held out her hand.

  Rolling her eyes, Rachel tossed the book on the floor and reluctantly stood up and walked to the shelf. She grabbed the binoculars and then handed them to her sister. “What are you looking at?”

  “A man,” Claudia murmured, peering through the binoculars at the short balding man standing on the sidewalk. “It can’t be. What is he doing here?”

  Rachel looked out the window. “Who is he? Do you know him?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. If I’m not mistaken, it’s Albert Hanson.”

  “Who is Albert Hanson?” Rachel asked.

  Claudia lowered the binoculars. “Another thorn in Clint’s side.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Walt returned to Marlow House before noon on Saturday with a shiny black Packard. He parked it back in the garage and went to look for Danielle. He found her in the parlor working on her laptop computer.

  “Was the chief of any help?” Danielle asked.

  “You were right, he wasn’t working today, and I went by his house, and no one was home.” Walt dropped a kiss on Danielle’s forehead. He had called her on the way to the car wash to tell her he was going to stop and talk to Police Chief MacDonald about Claudia’s claim.

  “Did you try calling him?” she asked.

  Walt took a seat on a chair near the desk. “I didn’t want to bother him when he’s with the boys, and this is really something I would rather discuss in person, not on the phone.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “What are you doing?” He nodded to the computer.

  “Some online sleuthing.”

  “Find anything interesting?”

  “A few things. Chris stopped by and—”

  Walt interrupted Danielle and asked, “Before you tell me, where is everyone?” He glanced to the open doorway.

  “Claudia and Rachel just left a minute ago. They said something about walking down to the pier. I suggested Pier Café for clam chowder. Didn’t you see them outside?”

  “I came up through the alley. What about Dirk and his wife?”

  “The last time I saw Dirk, he was in the library checking out your portrait, and his wife left not long after you did to go shopping. She hasn’t come back yet.”

  Walt stood up and walked to the door. “I think we should probably close this before you tell me what you found out. He could walk in on us anytime.”

  MARIE WAS happy to get out of the house and go for a walk. She followed Rachel and Claudia, who had just stepped onto the sidewalk in front of Marlow House. She heard a dog barking and glanced across the street. Lily was jogging over, with Sadie by her side. While Lily wouldn’t be able to see Marie, Sadie would.

  “Shouldn’t the dog be on a leash?” Claudia asked when Lily and Sadie reached their side of the street.

  “You can be so annoying,” Marie snapped. Remembering how she used to pinch her son’s ear when he was a little boy acting naughty, she tried the hands-free spirit version on Claudia.

  “Ouch!” Claudia yipped, quickly grabbing her now sore ear. With a frown, she looked around, wondering what had just happened.

  Ignoring her sister, Rachel said, “What a beautiful dog. Can I pet him?”

  “Sure. This is Sadie. She’s friendly.” Lily smiled.

  “That’s what they all say before the dog takes a chunk out of you,” Claudia snarked.

  Kneeling in front of Sadie, offering pats in exchange for sloppy kisses, Rachel said, “Ignore my sister.” She grinned at the dog.

  “Hello, Sadie,” Marie greeted her as Rachel scratched the dog behind her ears.

  “I guess you’re staying at Marlow House. I’m Lily Bartley. Sadie and I live across the street,” Lily said cheerfully.

  Rachel stood back up, giving Sadie a final pat. “Yes. I’m Rachel Dane, and this is my sister, Claudia.”

  Restless, Claudia asked her sister, “I thought you wanted to go to the pier?”

  Rachel smiled apologetically at Lily and said, “It was nice to meet you, Lily. You have a beautiful dog.”

  A few minutes later the sisters were headed down the street toward the pier—Marie trailing behind them—while Lily and Sadie walked up to the front door of Marlow House.

  “You didn’t have to be so rude,” Rachel told her sister when Lily was out of earshot.

  “The woman is a friend of Danielle and Clint’s. Danielle mentioned her this morning.”

  “So? There was no reason to be rude. She seemed nice.”

  “You just liked the dog. Admit it.”

  “And there is something wrong with that?” Marie asked deaf ears.

  “Do you think Clint told Danielle about you?” Rachel asked.

  “I seriously doubt it. He obviously told her that we knew each other; he practically admitted that at breakfast this morning. But about us being married? No way.”

  THE LITTLE MAN had been sitting at the booth for twenty minutes, and so far, all he wanted was coffee. Carla began refilling his cup and hoped he wasn’t going to calculate his tip according to the price of one cup of coffee. Business was slow as it was at this time of year. With her spare hand she tucked a lock of her blue hair behind one ear.

  “Do you know anything about that bed and breakfast down the street, Marlow House?” the man asked Carla after she finished refilling his cup.

  “Sure. It’s the oldest house in Frederickport. You thinking of staying there?”

  He shook his head. “No, I was just curious about it.”

  Carla set the po
t of coffee on the counter and propped her left hand on one hip. “It’s owned by Danielle Boatman. She inherited it from her great-aunt. The aunt’s mother inherited it from Walt Marlow.”

  “The guy in the portrait?” he asked.

  “You’ve seen the portrait?”

  “Yes. I went to the museum yesterday and saw it.”

  “Those paintings used to be owned by Danielle Boatman—well, at least the ones of Walt Marlow and his wife. The other one was owned by the museum. But the Glandon Foundation purchased them and now have them on loan at the museum. I guess they were painted by some famous artist—Monnet or Bonnet. Something like that.”

  “Yeah, I read about the paintings online.”

  “You want to know what’s really wild?” Carla asked.

  “What’s that?”

  “Walt Marlow has a distant cousin who’s living at the house now, and he’s a dead ringer for Walt.”

  “You mean Clint Marlow?” the man asked.

  “Oh, so you’ve heard about him?”

  “I know Clint Marlow,” he told her.

  “You do? Did you know him when he was Clint? He likes to be called Walt now. I know it’s his first name, but still, it’s a little creepy considering how much he looks like the other Walt.” Carla shivered at the thought.

  “Do you know him very well?” he asked.

  “He comes in here fairly frequently. Normally with Danielle. They’re engaged now. Actually, he’s an alright guy. When I first met him, he seemed rather full of himself. Maybe the accident changed him. I don’t know. He’s also an author. A pretty successful one.”

  “Yes, I heard that too.”

  “You know what they say, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know.”

  “How so?” he asked.

  “He was just pretty darn lucky he was staying across the street from Ian Bartley,” Carla said.

  “Who is that?” He frowned.

  “He’s a really big deal author. He writes under another name, Jon Altar. Lots of his stuff makes it to TV. I heard he read Walt’s book and sent it to his agent. Everyone says there is no way it would have gotten published so fast if it wasn’t for Ian. It was Walt’s first book.”

  WHEN CLAUDIA and Rachel reached the pier, Claudia wanted to go into the café, but Rachel wanted to walk the length of the pier first. Reluctantly Claudia capitulated, yet grumbled the entire time. Tired of hearing her sister complain, Rachel picked up her step so they could get to the café quicker. Once they walked in, they found most of the tables and booths empty, with one man sitting at the counter, his back to them.

  “I thought Danielle said this place has good food,” Claudia said while looking around deciding where to sit.

  “I’ve never seen anyone who complains as much as you!” Marie said. “If you did marry Clint, it’s no wonder the marriage didn’t work out. I’m surprised you made it out alive. I wouldn’t blame Clint if he had smothered you with a pillow.” Marie then cringed, recalling that was exactly how she had been killed. “Perhaps that was a poor choice of words,” she muttered.

  “Who says it doesn’t?” Rachel asked.

  “Not very crowded in here.” Claudia sat down in a booth.

  “Danielle did say this was their off season,” Rachel reminded while taking a seat across from her sister.

  Marie took the empty spot next to Rachel and watched as the women each picked up a menu and began reading. Bored, Marie looked around the café to see if there was anyone she knew. She looked up at the counter and noticed the man who had been sitting there had just stood up. He looked in their direction and frowned.

  Marie watched as the man walked toward them. She didn’t recognize his face and was fairly certain he was not from Frederickport. Claudia and Rachel were both reading their menus and did not notice his approach. It was not until he was standing over their table did Claudia look up.

  “Claudia Dane! It is you!” he shouted.

  Rachel looked up from her menu and stared at the intruder. She was fairly certain he was the same man who had been standing in front of Marlow House that morning. Carla, who was just clearing his coffee cup from the counter, looked in the direction of the shout.

  “Hello, Mr. Hanson,” Claudia said in a soft voice.

  “So you recognize me?”

  “Umm…yes, how have you been?” she whispered.

  “How do you think I’ve been? I always wondered if you were part of it. But here you are. You’re staying at Marlow House, aren’t you?”

  Claudia stared at the man but did not respond. Standing behind the counter was Carla, listening to the man’s every word. She wished the woman would speak up so she could hear what she was saying.

  “Aren’t you?” he shouted.

  “Mr. Hanson, my sister and I are just in Frederickport for a little holiday, nothing more.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “What does it matter?” Claudia asked.

  “If you’re staying at Marlow House, I guess it just shows my hunch was right all along. I could kill both of you for what you did to me!” he yelled.

  “Oh my,” Marie muttered. “This does not sound good for Walt.”

  “Please, Mr. Hanson, I didn’t do anything to you,” Claudia whispered.

  “You and Marlow destroyed me,” he said at the top of his voice.

  “Please, Mr. Hanson, a lot of people were hurt when the housing bubble burst. I can’t be held responsible for that.”

  “Don’t act so innocent. It was more than that, and you know it!”

  “You might want to cool it.” Rachel spoke up, nodding toward the front door.

  Scowling, Albert Hanson jerked his head around to see what Rachel was referring to. A female police officer stood at the entrance to the café, looking his way.

  Albert looked back to Claudia and whispered, “This isn’t over.” He turned and stormed from the café.

  “Thanks for getting here so fast,” Carla whispered to Officer Carpenter when she stepped up to the counter. “I can’t believe you got here that quick. Pretty good service!”

  “I was just down the street,” Carpenter said. “What happened?”

  Carla shrugged. “That man who just stormed out of here, he sat at the counter for the last half hour, drinking coffee and asking me about Marlow House.” She nodded to Claudia and Rachel. “Those two women just walked in and sat down, and he went over there and started yelling at them.”

  “What about?” she asked.

  Carla shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s why I called for you. He seemed pretty upset.”

  “I’ll go talk to them.”

  “Afternoon, ladies,” the officer greeted the women a few moments later.

  “Officer.” Claudia nodded.

  “I understand there was a problem in here a minute ago?”

  Claudia smiled up at her. “I’m sorry about that. We just happened to run into someone I know from back home, and he gets a little emotional sometimes. It sounded worse than it was. I apologize.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Danielle left the door to the parlor open so she could hear when her guests were coming or going. She had spent most of Saturday at the computer, searching for information on her guests and the possible marriage of Clint. She hadn’t seen the Russoms since they had left before breakfast, and she didn’t expect them to return until later in the evening.

  “You’ve been at that computer a long time,” Dirk said from the doorway.

  Danielle glanced up and smiled at him while quickly closing the search window. “How was dinner?”

  “You were right. Pearl Cove has excellent lobster. Tanya was very impressed.” He stepped into the room and glanced around.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  Dirk took a seat on a nearby chair and asked, “Where is Clint? I haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

  “He’s up in his room working on his new book.” And avoiding you, Danielle thought. Walt wanted to learn as much as possibl
e about Dirk before listening to whatever threat he had over Clint. “He also goes by his first name now.”

  “That’s going to take some getting used to. I’ve always known him as Clint. But I’ll work on it.”

  Danielle turned in her seat to face Dirk. “I’m curious, why didn’t you just tell Walt you knew him when you arrived?”

  Dirk shrugged. He uncrossed and recrossed his legs. “I intended to,” Dirk lied. “But when you opened that door and he obviously had no clue, I felt a little foolish. So I said nothing.”

  “You also implied he’s the reason you decided to stay here.”

  “Did I?” Dirk smiled.

  “You did.”

  Dirk sat in silence for a moment before answering. Finally, he said, “My wife and I had been talking about taking a trip along the coast for some time. I saw Clint—I mean Walt—on television and I looked him up on the computer.” Dirk smiled. “You did ask me if I ever Googled clients. He wasn’t a client, but a colleague. I read about Marlow House and thought it looked rather quaint—and so here we are.”

  “January is a little cold to travel along the coast. Had you always planned to come up here this month? Or just after you saw Walt on television?” she asked.

  Dirk shrugged. “I tend to be rather impulsive. I suppose Tanya would have been happier had I booked a room in the summer. But I never know what my schedule will be, and I had just sold my last listing, so I figured this would be an ideal time to take a trip, before business picked up again.”

  “I see…” Danielle murmured. You mean you figured this would be a good time to blackmail Clint.

  “I must say, I am quite impressed with Cl—Walt’s second career. I had no idea he was interested in writing. Who would have thought, from real estate agent to successful author?”

  “IT LOOKS like the chief won’t be back until Tuesday,” Danielle told Walt on Sunday morning. They were alone in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for their guests.

  “The boys missing school?” Walt asked.

  “I guess. It’s some family thing in Vancouver. He got my message and text messaged me this morning,” Danielle explained.