“What can you tell me about the fines Claudia had to pay the real estate department to keep her license?” the chief asked.
Dirk shrugged. “I have no idea. Claudia and I didn’t work in the same office.”
“Do you know of any issues Clint had with the real estate department?”
“No. But agents who have issues with the real estate department tend not to broadcast it. And Clint and I weren’t exactly friends.”
“You had some issue with him working with Jay Larson, didn’t you?”
Dirk stared dumbly at the chief a few moments and then asked, “What are you talking about?”
“According to some agents who work with you, you had an issue with Larson and Marlow. Can you tell me about it?”
Dirk shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “I don’t know what that has to do with Claudia’s death.”
“I understand you brought up his name at breakfast yesterday morning.”
“So? I was just trying to help Clint jog his memory. I figured if I started tossing out the names of people he knew, something might stick. I was just trying to help.”
“But why Larson’s name? And I’d like you to tell me what issue you had with him and Clint.”
“Larson was a real estate appraiser. Clint used him all the time.”
“I thought appraisers were technically chosen by the buyer’s lender, and even then, the lender can’t say which appraiser they want, it has to come out of a pool?”
Dirk shrugged. “That’s how it is now. But it used to be a lender could call his favorite appraiser to make sure the appraisal came in at sale price. If Clint got his buyers to use his lender, then he knew the listing would appraise. That’s because his lender always used Larson.”
“I understand why you may not know if an agent was sanctioned by the real estate department. But I also know it’s fairly easy to look up that information. I find it curious you would know who appraised the properties Clint sold, but you never bothered to check his status with the real estate department.”
“Why would I? Anyway, when a property comes up on the MLS, any agent checking will see it, along with the listing price. Claudia’s listings were always ridiculously overpriced, yet they always sold at full price and appraised. That’s information any agent is going to come across when doing a CMA. I couldn’t believe her listings kept appraising, so I did a little checking and discovered Larson was the appraiser. Of course, with the new rules in place, a lender can’t cherry-pick his appraiser anymore.”
After Dirk and Tanya left the police station, Joe met with the chief in his office.
“What did you find out?” the chief asked as he sat down behind his desk.
“I didn’t find anything on Claudia. Nothing. She’s never had any issues with the real estate department. No complaints, nothing. Marlow had a few complaints, but they were minor and all resolved. He’s never been fined by the department either.”
“So what was Rachel talking about?” The chief frowned.
Joe shook his head. “I have no idea.”
“Where’s Brian?”
“He went down to the pier to talk to Carla. She hadn’t come in to work yet when we stopped there earlier. But they told us she pulled a double shift yesterday and would have been there at the same time Walt and Claudia walked down to the pier. We’re hoping she saw something,” Joe said.
“I’m going back to Marlow House and talk to Claudia’s sister again. While I’m there, I’d like you to check into that condo Claudia sold. See if there’s any way to find out what she did with that money. If she didn’t use it to pay real estate fines, then where did it go? Her reason for coming here in the first place seems to be tied to that. We need to know who she gave that money to, and does it have anything to do with her murder?”
When the chief arrived at Marlow House late Tuesday afternoon, he was greeted by Danielle at the front door. She took him to the living room, where Walt, Chris and Heather were sitting, with Hunny napping on the floor next to her human.
“Actually, I came to talk to Rachel,” the chief said after saying hello to everyone.
Danielle stood up from where she sat next to Walt on the sofa. “She’s upstairs packing, but I’ll go get her for you.”
“Packing? I thought she agreed to stay in Frederickport for a few more days?” he snapped.
“Oh, don’t worry, Chief, she’s not going far. She got a room at the Seahorse Motel.”
“Why? Doesn’t she have a room here for the rest of the week?” he asked.
“Seriously, Chief? Do you blame her? As far as she knows, Walt or Danielle gunned down her sister and tossed her body in the icy ocean,” Heather said. “Too creepy to stay under the same roof with them.”
“Gee, thanks, Heather,” Danielle said dryly.
Heather shrugged. “Well, it’s true. She doesn’t know who killed her sister. And who had a better motive than the man she was blackmailing, or the woman getting rid of her fiancé’s wife.”
“Glad the chief understands you,” Chris told Heather.
“Actually, Heather has a point,” the chief conceded.
Heather flashed a smug grin to her friends.
“Let me go get her. I’ll take her to the parlor. I assume you want to speak to her alone,” Danielle said.
“Before you go, I wonder, have any of you seen Claudia?” the chief asked them.
“No, that’s what we were just talking about,” Chris said. “But according to Heather, Marie and Eva are out looking for her.”
“They didn’t actually tell me they were looking for her, but when I saw them each flying around over the beach like a couple of witches from The Wizard of Oz, I assumed that’s what they were doing.”
“Danielle said you wanted to talk to me again?” Rachel said when she entered the parlor. The chief stood up to greet her and then motioned for her to sit down in one of the chairs.
“I understand you’re moving over to the Seahorse Motel?”
“Yes. I have to say, Danielle was really very nice about it. In fact, she refunded all my money. I told her that wasn’t necessary, but she insisted.” Rachel took a seat.
“Under the circumstances, I suppose I can understand why you might feel uncomfortable staying here.”
Rachel nodded. “So what did you want to talk to me about, Chief MacDonald? I thought we covered everything.”
“You told me your sister sold her condo to pay real estate fines.”
“Yes. But I’m not sure what that has to do with her murder.”
“Considering that was the motivation for her coming here, I believe it could be relevant. But the problem, we checked. And your sister has never been fined by the real estate department. In fact, she’s never had a complaint against her.”
“She paid the fines, so that’s probably why nothing showed up,” Rachel suggested.
“It doesn’t work that way. If she paid a fine to the real estate department, there would be a record of it.”
Rachel frowned. “But I know she paid it. When she sold her condo, she made a little over a hundred thousand. She started paying off the fine, and within a month all the money was gone.”
“A hundred thousand? That’s a pretty big real estate fine.”
Rachel shrugged. “That’s why she wanted to get Clint to pay his share.”
“So she didn’t pay it off all at once?” he asked.
“No. The only reason I know that, one day after she came home from work, I went in her room to talk to her, and I found her counting money. It was five thousand dollars. I knew she was tight with money because of the fines she had paid, so I was naturally curious why she had all that money. She told me she was taking it down to the real estate department.”
“Didn’t you find it odd she was paying in cash? Or paying in installments if she already had the money?”
“I just figured she wanted to pay in cash so they would give a receipt for cash, and not chance having the check getting lost in the mail. A
nd paying in installments, I don’t know. I just figured she wanted to hang onto her money as long as possible before she had to hand it all over, you know, in case an emergency came up.”
“Does the department of real estate have an office close to you?”
“I assume so.”
“Do you know if she has receipts for these payments?”
“I never saw any.” Absently chewing on her lower lip, Rachel frowned at the chief. “You don’t think she paid that money to the real estate department, do you?”
“No, I don’t.”
Rachel looked down at her lap and sniffled. “I tried to be there for my sister, but I knew enough not to get too much in her business. It always irritated her if I asked too many questions. That’s why I didn’t call the police when I went to bed last night and she wasn’t there. I figured she was probably at a bar somewhere letting off steam, and if she thought I was checking up on her, she would just get mad. But now, I wish I would have called. Maybe I could have saved her life.”
Thirty-Four
It started to sprinkle. Rachel sat alone in the car in the parking lot of the Seahorse Motel, looking at the weathered old buildings. She hadn’t checked in yet, but she didn’t have an umbrella, and she didn’t feel like getting wet. Maybe it would stop raining if she just sat here for a few more minutes.
“I have been looking all over for you! When I told you you could use my car, I certainly didn’t expect you to just take off with it!” Claudia ranted from the passenger seat.
Rachel began to cry.
“Seriously? You’re going to cry about that? Sometimes you can be so emotional.”
Rachel pulled a tissue from her purse and began dabbing the tears away.
“Let’s go back to Marlow House. I really want to change my clothes,” Claudia told her.
The rain stopped. Rachel looked up through the windshield. With a sniffle, she unhooked her seatbelt and removed the key from the ignition.
“Where are you going?” Claudia asked.
Grabbing her purse off the passenger seat, Rachel opened the car door.
Claudia looked down and frowned. I didn’t notice her purse sitting on my lap, she thought.
Annoyed, Claudia followed her sister from the car to the front office of the motel.
“What are you doing here?” Claudia asked.
“I have a reservation, Rachel Dane,” Rachel told the man sitting at the front desk.
“Welcome, Ms. Dane. We have room six all ready for you.”
“What do you mean you have a reservation? We already paid for a week at Marlow House!” Claudia demanded.
A few minutes later Claudia followed her sister from the office back outside. “Would you stop ignoring me! I’m serious, Rachel. You are really starting to annoy me! What’s gotten into you?”
Fuming, Claudia stood by the side of her car and watched as her sister pulled a suitcase out of the car’s trunk. She then noticed her own suitcase.
“Wait a minute, what is my suitcase doing in there?”
Rachel slammed the trunk shut, leaving her sister’s luggage behind.
“How am I supposed to change my clothes if you leave that in the car? And just why are we here? What happened at Marlow House? Did Danielle Boatman find out who I am? Is that it? Did she kick us out? Is that why you won’t talk to me?”
Claudia followed her sister to the door of room six. Just as Rachel put the key card in the lock, the door to room seven opened and out walked a man. He was busy hanging the do-not-disturb sign on his door and wasn’t paying attention to his new neighbor.
Seeing the man, Claudia gasped. “I don’t want to deal with you again!” She vanished.
As Rachel unlocked the door and started to open it, she glanced to the next room over. The man who had just stepped from the room looked directly at her. Their eyes met. She recognized him.
Kelly Bartley sat with her brother in a booth in Pier Café. She’d talked him into meeting her there for a predinner slice of pie, and the chance to pump him for information on what had gone on not far from his house just that morning. Joe would fill her in when he got home, but she was too curious to wait, and she couldn’t bother him at work, not when he was in the middle of investigating a murder.
“Did you see the body?” she asked ghoulishly.
“Thankfully, no.” Ian shook his head at the question and took a sip of his coffee.
“But it was someone staying at Marlow House?” she asked.
“That’s what Danielle told me when I talked to her on the phone.”
“I don’t know why anyone stays at Marlow House. Seriously.” Kelly shivered.
Ian frowned at his sister. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“That place is a death trap. I can’t even count how many people who’ve stayed there have been murdered—sometimes even right there on the property. Even a few attempted murders. Honestly, Ian, if I were you, I don’t think I would’ve bought a house right across the street from it. It’s bad luck.”
“I don’t think the woman’s death had anything to do with Marlow House. And Lily seemed to get out alive,” Ian smirked.
“It’s not funny, Ian. I’m serious. I think you should do an article on that place.”
Ian was just about to tell his sister he had no intention of writing such an article about his friend’s bed and breakfast when Kelly said, “Oh look, Brian is here. I wonder if he knows anything more about the woman’s death?”
Carla sat with Brian in a booth on the other side of the restaurant. No one was seated on either side of them.
Holding a photograph in her hand, she shook her head sadly. “So that’s the poor woman who was killed?”
“Do you remember ever seeing her?” he asked.
“Oh yeah. I saw her a couple of times. The first was over the weekend. It caused quite a ruckus. In fact, I called the police. That female cop showed up.”
“Officer Carpenter?” he asked.
“Yeah, I think that’s her name. But as soon as she walked in, he took off.”
“Who?”
“The woman—the one in the photograph—was sitting over there with another woman.” Carla pointed to a booth. “Then this man comes in, I remember his name because he left his wallet in here and—” Carla stopped and looked at Brian. “I think he might be the one who killed her!”
Kelly couldn’t keep her eyes off the booth with Brian and Carla.
“Maybe you should learn how to read lips,” Ian suggested.
Kelly looked to her brother and frowned. “What?”
“It’s killing you that you can’t hear what they’re saying.”
“Carla obviously knows something. Look how Brian seems to be hanging on every word!”
Shaking his head at his sister, Ian took a bite of his pie.
Fifteen minutes later, after finishing their pie and Brian had left the diner, Carla came back to their table to see if they would like anything else.
“Any news on that woman they found this morning?” Kelly asked just as Carla picked up their dirty plates.
“You mean the one Heather Donovan found,” Carla said as she set the plates back on the table, stacking one atop the other and shoving Ian over in his seat so she could sit down.
Rolling his eyes, Ian moved over, making room for Carla, who continued to address Kelly. “You know, if Heather Donovan ever asked me to go jogging with her, I would tell her hell no! It’s like dead bodies are attracted to her.”
“Do they know anything more?”
“Well, just between you and me, I think they might have found the one responsible. Brian is going over there right now, so I can’t really say who. But I think the lid is going to be blown off this case by nightfall.”
Ian arched his brow. “Really?”
“And it’s not Walt Marlow. Although, when I realized who the woman was, that was my first thought,” Carla said.
“Why in the world would you imagine Walt was responsible for that woman�
��s death?” Ian asked.
“Because she was his wife—a wife he obviously wanted to get rid of,” Carla whispered.
“Wife?” Kelly gasped.
Ian groaned.
Carla nodded. “Yep. When they searched her room over at Marlow House, they found the marriage license. She and Walt Marlow were married in Mexico.”
“Who told you that?” Ian asked. “I can’t believe they would discuss what they found in the search.”
“They didn’t tell me.” Carla shrugged. “But two of the cops who searched the room stopped in here later to get something to eat, and I overheard them.”
Brian had just pulled up to the Seahorse Motel when his cellphone rang. It was the chief.
“I just got a call from Rachel Dane. She’s pretty upset. That man her sister knew, who approached her at the diner, he’s staying in the room next to hers. Room seven.”
“I’m there now.” Brian went on to brief the chief on what Carla had told him.
Just as Brian got off the call, he spied a short balding man heading to room seven, carrying what appeared to be a paper sack with take-out food. Brian quickly got out of the squad car.
“Albert Hanson?” Brian called out just as the man was about to put his key card in the door.
Albert turned from the door and looked up at Brian. “Yes?”
“Are you Albert Hanson?”
“Is there a problem, officer?”
“I need to speak with you for a moment.”
A few minutes later, Brian sat on a small sofa in the motel room while Albert sat on a chair facing him.
“I understand you left your wallet in Pier Café yesterday.”
“Yes. I picked it up this morning. Is that what this is about?”
“I also understand you had an argument with a woman in there on Saturday,” Brian said.
“Is she pressing charges or something?”
“She’s dead.”
Albert’s eyes widened, and he slumped back in his chair. “Dead?”
The Ghost Who Was Says I Do Page 22
