The Ghost Who Was Says I Do

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “You aren’t very kind to someone who just died. Are you a demon or something? Am I in hell?”

  Heather cocked her brow and looked at Claudia. “Do you deserve to be in hell?”

  “Maybe…I haven’t always done the right thing.”

  “I suspect few people always do the right thing. It’s more the summation of your life.”

  “So this isn’t hell?” Claudia asked.

  Heather shrugged. “Some think it is.”

  Claudia groaned.

  Picking up her teapot, Heather started to fill her cup. “I would offer you some, but ghosts don’t drink tea.”

  “Is that what I am, a ghost? She said I was dead, but she didn’t say I was a ghost.”

  “Seriously, you have to be told? You just walked through my wall, know you are dead, and basically admitted some people can’t see you. If that isn’t the definition of a ghost, what is?”

  “Am I always going to be a ghost?”

  “No. When you move over to the other side, I don’t think you’ll be a ghost anymore. Who were you talking about when you said she told you you were dead?”

  “She said her name, but I don’t remember. Too much to process. She was an old woman—”

  “Straw hat and sundress?” Heather asked.

  “Yes!’

  “Ahh, Marie!” Heather sipped her tea.

  “You know her?”

  “She’s another ghost,” Heather explained. “So tell me, who shot you?”

  “Marie asked me who was responsible for my death, and I told her. Clint Marlow.”

  “Clint Marlow is dead, so unless he’s come back from the grave, I don’t think so.” Heather frowned and then muttered, “Technically there was no grave, but whatever.”

  “What do you mean he’s dead? Did someone kill him too?”

  “If you’re talking about Walt Marlow, he’s still alive,” Heather told her.

  “It’s the same person,” Claudia argued.

  “Nope, it’s not. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll tell you the story of Walt and Clint Marlow.” Setting her teacup on the table, Heather reached over and pulled out a chair for Claudia. “And then you can tell me what happened to you.”

  Heather sat alone in her kitchen. Claudia had just left. She picked up her cellphone and called the police chief.

  “Heather? Have you seen her?” the chief asked when he answered her call.

  “Yes. She was just at my house.” Holding the phone to her ear, Heather glanced to the kitchen window. It was dark outside.

  “Does she know who murdered her?”

  “She wasn’t murdered exactly,” Heather said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “People are funny when they die.”

  “I don’t follow you,” the chief said.

  “Sometimes they’re more candid than they would be if you asked them the same question when they were alive. I’m not saying all dead people tell the truth. Not that I’ve talked to as many dead people as Danielle, but that’s what she told me.”

  “Heather, please, will you get to the part where Claudia gives you the identity of the killer?”

  “It’s more a reluctant killer. You see, Claudia admitted she was the one who pulled the gun on her would-be killer. And for a moment she seriously considered pulling the trigger. The other person didn’t feel like waiting for Claudia to make up her mind.”

  “There were defensive wounds. The person who shot her was trying to get the gun away from her, right?” the chief asked.

  “Pretty much. Of course, when the gun went off accidentally, it doesn’t sound like there was much effort to try to save Claudia. When all this went down, she was on the end of the pier. One minute she’s wrestling with someone she considered killing; the next thing she knows, she’s in the ocean.”

  Danielle leaned against Walt’s shoulder. They sat alone together in the library, watching flames dance and crackle in the fireplace. The Russoms had stopped by briefly to change their clothes. They were on their way to Astoria, where they planned to spend the night. Marie had taken off shortly after they left. Dirk and his wife had gone out to dinner, so Walt and Danielle were alone in the house.

  Walt draped an arm around Danielle, his right hand caressing her bare arm. Staring into the flames, he asked, “I wonder what Claudia meant when she said Clint was responsible for her death.”

  “Probably because if it wasn’t for her and Clint’s past, she wouldn’t have come here,” Danielle suggested. “And then she would still be alive.”

  “You’re correct,” came a female voice from behind them.

  Abruptly Walt and Danielle sat up and turned around, coming face-to-face with Claudia’s ghost.

  “You can see me. Heather said you could both see ghosts. She was right.”

  “You’ve seen Heather?” Danielle asked.

  “Yes, I just left her. I told her what happened. And I wanted to apologize to Walt. None of it was his fault.” Claudia walked toward them, making her way around the sofa and taking a seat on a nearby chair.

  “You know?” Walt asked.

  “That you’re masquerading as Clint?” Claudia smiled. “But now that I really look at you, there is something different. For one thing, you look a little younger.”

  “He is.” Danielle smiled.

  “Where are Dirk and his wife?” Claudia asked.

  “They went out to dinner,” Danielle explained.

  “Dirk plans to blackmail you.”

  “That’s what we figured,” Danielle said.

  “Yes, Heather told me you’ve been keeping an eye on us.”

  “What does Dirk have on Clint?” Danielle asked.

  “Dirk found out Clint and I had been working together getting buyers to purchase my flips, inflating the prices, and paying off the appraiser.” Claudia cringed. “When I pass over, I wonder if I’ll go to hell for real estate fraud?”

  “I imagine there will be some penance, but here on this side, you would be beyond the statute of limitations. From what I understand, they couldn’t bring any charges against you now—or against Walt. So I’m not sure why Dirk imagines he can blackmail anyone. Does he think Walt would be willing to pay just to save his reputation?”

  “That’s not why Dirk is going to blackmail Walt. He has something on Clint—on both of us—that could mean some serious prison time. The only reason he hasn’t approached him yet, he wants Clint’s memory to come back. Of course, that’s not going to happen because Clint’s already gone. But I imagine Dirk’s not going to let amnesia keep him from making what he believes to be a lucrative score. Unfortunately, he has the documents to prove what Clint and I did. And trust me, you don’t want him sending them to the authorities.”

  Thirty-Seven

  “Do you think she moved on?” Walt asked Danielle. Alone again, they were in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner. Danielle stood at the sink, handwashing the dishes while Walt dried.

  “She said she was going to stop and see her sister one more time, but I think she was ready. I’m rather relieved she’s anxious to cross over. I’ve found people who fear punishment in the afterlife are often reluctant to move on, worried about what awaits them.”

  “So what do you think Marie is hiding from?” Walt teased.

  With a grin Danielle playfully bumped Walt with her hip and handed him a plate to dry. “I’ll let you ask her.”

  Walt grinned at Danielle and dried the dish. After a few moments of silence, he said, “I suppose we should get back to the Thorpes and how we’re going to handle them.” Walt tossed the dish towel on the counter.

  “It would have been nice had we found the papers in their room,” Danielle grumbled. “But at least we know what we’re up against.”

  Walt followed Danielle out of the kitchen. “I still can’t believe you let me search their room.”

  “Sometimes we have to bend the rules. I’d happily kick them out, but—”

  “Not until we get our hands on the i
ncriminating evidence against Clint,” Walt finished for her.

  “This really puts the poor chief in a pickle. Not only can’t he tell any of his people how he knows what he knows, if any of them get ahold of what Dirk has on Clint, it’s going to create a major headache for us.”

  When searching the Thorpes’ room earlier, Marie had returned. She assisted in the search and then agreed to return the next morning. Considering what they had learned from Claudia, they didn’t feel Marie needed to stick around.

  “We need to get our hands on it before Joe or Brian. I have a feeling Joe would take special delight in seeing me sent to prison.”

  Danielle cringed. “Please, I don’t even want to consider the possibility.”

  They were about to step into the living room when the Russoms came walking in the front door.

  “You’re back?” Danielle said in surprise.

  “Something came up with my cousin, so we had to cancel the trip to Astoria. While they’re dealing with their thing, thought we’d just come back here,” Mr. Russom said.

  Danielle invited them to join her and Walt in the living room for cocktails. Thirty minutes later as the four were sitting in the living room, enjoying their second round of drinks, the Thorpes returned. Walt made introductions and prepared Dirk and Tanya a cocktail.

  “Are you saying she was staying here?” Mr. Russom asked when Tanya brought up the subject of Claudia’s death.

  “Yes, she and her sister, but her sister checked out,” Danielle explained. She didn’t mention Rachel had gone to the Seahorse Motel for fear the killer might be staying under Marlow House’s roof.

  “I heard it might be suicide,” Mrs. Russom said.

  “Suicide, where did you hear that?” Danielle asked.

  “When we came back from Astoria, we stopped into the Pier Café for a bite to eat,” Mrs. Russom explained. “The waitress there said the woman had been shot with a .38, and that was the type of gun she owned, and it was missing. She said the woman probably committed suicide by shooting herself on the end of the pier and then falling in the ocean.”

  “Carla,” Danielle mumbled under her breath.

  “Such a shame,” Mrs. Russom said.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll head upstairs and get ready for bed. I’m exhausted,” Tanya said.

  Danielle stood. “I’m going to go up too. I need to take a shower.” Danielle paused a moment and looked at Tanya. “Unless you want to take one first. In these old houses, sometimes it’s best not to take showers at the same time.”

  “No, that’s fine. I took mine earlier.”

  As Danielle started for the door, Walt said, “I think I might head up and get a little work done.”

  “Oh, you’re always on that computer,” Dirk said. “Stay down and have another drink with us. I’ve been wanting to ask you some questions about that book of yours.”

  Danielle paused at the doorway and glanced back at Walt; their eyes met. They both wondered if, once Dirk had him alone, he would make his demand.

  “Goodnight, everyone,” Danielle said as she stepped into the hallway.

  A few moments later as she made her way up the stairs behind Tanya, her hand on the rail, she heard the distant sound of the pet door swinging in the kitchen. Almost to the second-floor landing, she glanced down and spied Max strolling panther-like down the hallway, from the kitchen to the living room, where she had left Walt. She smiled, relieved to know the cat was back in the house safe and sound.

  “Goodnight, see you in the morning,” Danielle told Tanya as she passed her in the hallway.

  Tanya lingered by the closed door into the room Danielle had given her and Dirk. “Night, Danielle.”

  When Danielle arrived at her bedroom door, she paused a moment and looked back down the hallway and found Tanya still standing by her door. The woman flashed her a smile and started to go into her room, her eyes still on Danielle.

  “Goodnight,” Danielle said one more time as she walked into her bedroom.

  Once in the room Danielle closed and locked her door. She immediately went to the dresser and removed the baby monitor, setting it up so she would hear anyone knocking on the door when up in the room with Walt. Since she hadn’t moved her clothes upstairs yet, she grabbed what she needed for the next morning before heading upstairs to take a shower.

  A few minutes later she was inside her bedroom closet. She opened the hidden door and turned on the light. The bulb flickered on and then went out.

  “Not another lightbulb,” Danielle groaned. “Walt can change this one.”

  Holding onto the handrail with one hand and her clothes in the other, Danielle slowly made her way up the dark hidden stairwell. When she reached the attic landing, she placed her now free hand on the wall and began pushing the panel to one side. It slid only an inch when a flash of light hit her in the eye and then zigzagged to another part of the attic apartment. She froze.

  Peeking through the small opening, she looked into the dark room. The light in the attic apartment was not on, but someone was in there with a flashlight. She watched as the flashlight moved around the room. She heard drawers opening and closing.

  Who is in there? she wondered. And what are they looking for?

  Danielle stood frozen and listened, watching through the small opening. After a few minutes the door to the attic opened and light flooded in from the hallway. She could now clearly see the intruder. It was Tanya. Danielle watched as the woman turned off the flashlight and then left the room, closing and locking the door behind her.

  Danielle remained in the stairwell, deciding what to do next. She wondered what Tanya was looking for, and how did she get in the attic apartment? They always locked their rooms. She debated returning to her own room on the second floor in case Tanya made another visit to the attic. The last thing Danielle wanted at this time was to reveal the existence of the hidden staircase, especially considering what Claudia had told them about Dirk.

  The minutes ticked away, and Danielle was about to return to her room on the second floor when the light went on in the attic room. Peeking through the small opening, she spied Walt, who had just stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

  With a sigh of relief, Danielle slid the panel open and stepped into the room.

  “I thought you would be in the shower already,” Walt told her.

  “I had a little visitor.” Danielle slid the panel closed behind her.

  “What visitor?”

  “Tanya broke into your room.” Danielle then went on to tell Walt what had happened.

  “Interesting. I was able to come up—spared being quizzed about my book by someone I know has other motives—when Tanya returned to the living room and told Dirk she decided she wasn’t tired. They’re playing a board game with the Russoms.”

  “Lucky Russoms,” Danielle muttered. “Obviously it was her way of telling Dirk the job was done. What do you think she was looking for?”

  “I can’t imagine. But I suppose one way to find out is to see what’s missing.”

  Danielle groaned and then glanced around the room. “Maybe we start where I saw her snooping with the flashlight.”

  For the next five minutes they searched the room, opening drawers, looking under the bed. Nothing seemed to be missing. They were about to give up when Danielle noticed one of the decorative boxes she had placed on the shelf had been moved. It was empty, so she hadn’t felt it necessary to look inside when they started searching.

  Walt watched as Danielle picked the box up off the shelf. “Something is in here,” Danielle said, jiggling it gently in her hands, feeling the extra weight. Removing the lid, she looked inside and then let out a gasp. Wide eyed, she looked at Walt while tilting the box so he could see inside.

  “A gun?” Walt looked down at the small .38.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s Claudia’s gun, the one Dirk wrestled out of her hands when she was going to shoot him.”

  “I guess this answers our questi
on. Did he keep the gun or toss it in the ocean when he pushed her body off the pier?” Walt took the box from Danielle and asked, “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  “Yes, that they intend to frame you for her murder.”

  “The good news, maybe they don’t intend to blackmail me?” Walt grinned.

  “Gee, nice. Framed for murder is better than blackmail?”

  Walt shrugged.

  “I’d better call the chief.” Danielle told him.

  Thirty-Eight

  Awake, Danielle stared up at the ceiling, thinking of the previous day’s events. By her side Walt stirred, rustling the sheets. The next moment his hand touched her.

  “Good morning,” she whispered. She reached out and touched the hand touching hers.

  “What time is it?” he groaned.

  She glanced at the clock. “Time to get up. I imagine Joanne is already downstairs making breakfast.”

  Walt sat up and looked across Danielle to the alarm clock. He frowned. “We overslept.”

  “Considering yesterday might have been one of the longest days in my life, I don’t think we slept long enough.”

  “It did seem it would never end,” Walt agreed.

  Together they sat up and exchanged a quick good-morning kiss before getting out of bed and dressing for the day.

  Downstairs they found Joanne preparing breakfast and the Russoms in the dining room with the Thorpes, chatting and having coffee. It was the first time the Russoms had shared breakfast with them. The conversation was superficial, and when everyone was done eating, the Russoms said their goodbyes and left for another day’s outing.

  “I was wondering if I could talk to you and Danielle, alone, in the parlor?” Dirk asked Walt as Danielle helped Joanne clear the table. “Tanya and I have decided we should cut our trip short. While Claudia wasn’t exactly a friend, we’d rather get back home and put this tragedy behind us.”

  “Let me take these dishes in the kitchen, and I’ll meet you both in the parlor,” Danielle said, flashing a questioning glance to Walt.