by Bobbi Holmes
“Um… exactly on what grounds?”
“She came into the museum and attacked me. I think that should be sufficient,” Ginny said stubbornly.
“Do you have any proof?” Brian asked.
“Proof? I’m telling you, she came in here and attacked me!” Ginny shrieked.
“I don’t know what happened here,” Brian lied again. “But it will be your word against hers. And frankly, Heather is a respected member of the community.”
“Are you serious? She looks like a vampire,” Ginny snarked. “Are you suggesting they would take her word over mine?”
“Heather works for the Glandon Foundation, which is the museum’s principal benefactor.”
“And I’m sure the Glandon Foundation would like to know they have an unstable employee. When I’m done talking to them, I don’t imagine she’ll have a job for much longer.”
“Like I said, it will be your word against hers. I promise, you have nothing to fear from Heather. But I will have a talk with her.”
“Officer Henderson,” Ginny said curtly, “I would appreciate it if you would just leave now. It is obvious you’re not planning to do anything about this. Considering your recent experience with Ms. Donovan after they kidnapped you, you clearly have misplaced loyalty to her. I hope it’s worth your career. Please leave.”
Brian didn’t bother arguing. He gave Ginny a nod and then turned and headed for the front exit. Just as he reached it, Millie Samson walked in. Brian gave Millie a brief hello and continued on his way.
“Why was Officer Henderson here?” Millie asked when she walked into the exhibit area and found Ginny standing alone.
Relieved to see Millie, Ginny broke into tears and ran to her, throwing her arms around the startled woman.
Millie sat with Ginny in the museum gift shop, listening to Ginny recount the events with Heather. When she finished, Millie let out a sigh. “It’s true, Heather can be an odd one. But I have never known her to be violent.”
“Are you saying you don’t believe me?” Ginny asked.
“No, dear. But it seems out of character. Perhaps the poor girl snapped. You know, she had a rather traumatic experience just days ago. Drugged, kidnapped and taken to the mountains and left to die.”
“Are you suggesting Brian is protecting her because he feels she snapped?”
“Very possible. And he is right, it is your word against Heather’s. And like he told you, she works for the Glandon Foundation.”
“Yes, but I imagine it may not thrill the Glandon Foundation to keep someone unstable like her working for them.”
Millie chuckled and then leaned forward and gave Ginny a condescending pat on the knee. “Dear, you really have not been here very long, have you? She is Chris Johnson’s right-hand person.”
“Who is Chris Johnson?” Ginny asked.
“Let’s just say, he might as well be Chris Glandon. He runs the foundation, and he is well aware of all Heather’s quirks. That entire group is quite tight.”
“Group? What group?”
“That entire Beach Drive group,” Millie said. “The Marlows, Heather Donovan, Chris Johnson, the Bartleys. They all live on Beach Drive.”
“The Bartleys? Kelly’s brother?” Ginny asked.
Millie gave a nod. “Yes. All close friends. And I imagine the community of Frederickport would be quick to throw their support behind them, considering how much they have all donated to local charities.”
Brian sat alone with the chief in his office. He had just told him what had happened at the museum. After listening to the entire story, the chief let out a long low whistle while he reclined in his desk chair, the back of his head cradled in his palms with his fingers laced together.
“Now you see what I’ve had to deal with since Danielle moved to Frederickport,” the chief said only half in jest.
“I felt like I was gaslighting the poor woman.” Brian groaned.
The chief let out a sigh and sat up in the chair, propping his elbows on the desk. “I get it. But what else can we do? I don’t think either of us wants to arrest Heather for something a ghost did. Especially since Heather was trying to do the right thing.”
“I understand that. But you should have seen how Ginny was looking at me.”
“Yeah, I heard Kelly has been trying to hook you two up. I can’t see that happening now.” The chief snickered.
“It’s not that,” Brian scoffed.
“Yeah, I know. I guess I need to be prepared for Ginny Thomas.”
The chief’s desk phone rang. He picked it up and answered it. After a moment, he hung up the phone and looked at Brian. “And sooner than later.”
“What?” Brian frowned.
“Ginny Thomas is here. She wants to talk to me. You should probably get out of here. I told them to wait a minute before they send her back. But let’s stick with the story that if someone cleaned up the museum, Heather did it.”
“She did.”
“I meant before you got there,” the chief said.
Heather and Chris sat across from each other at a booth at Lucy’s Diner. After Heather had arrived at work and told Chris what had happened at the museum, he insisted he take her out for lunch so they could talk away from the office. There were more employees working at the Glandon Foundation offices these days, and he would rather they continue the discussion away from his other employees.
“So does this mean I might need to get you bail money?” Chris asked after the server took their order and left the table.
“I’m glad you find this amusing,” Heather grumbled.
“Well, just be grateful Brian knows about us, or my offer might not be so much in jest.”
“I feel horrible about Ginny,” Heather said as she absently poked at the ice in the water the server had brought to their table when coming to take their order.
“Just stay away from her,” Chris said. “At least until we know Caitlin has moved on,” Chris warned.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Heather grumbled, giving her ice another poke with the tip of one finger.
Chris and Heather had finished lunch and returned to the Glandon Foundation offices, when Kelly met Joe for a late lunch at Pier Café. The two had already placed their order and sat together at a booth.
“Ginny is so upset. I can’t believe the chief’s not going to do something,” Kelly said.
“I don’t think there is anything he can do. It’s Ginny’s word against Heather’s.”
“Well, I take Ginny’s word,” Kelly insisted. “I always thought Heather was a little weird, but I never imagined she would attack someone. Or that Brian would cover for her.”
“I don’t believe Brian covered for her,” Joe insisted. “Brian is not like that. He will not cover for someone who breaks the law, not even a friend.”
“How can you say that? He obviously helped Heather remove any evidence of her outburst,” Kelly said.
“According to Brian, nothing was out of place when he got there. So if anyone put the place back together, it had to have been Heather before he got there.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what the chief told Ginny,” Kelly said. “Not that Heather put the place together, but that when Brian got there, nothing was out of order. Millie suggested Heather had some sort of breakdown.”
“Breakdown?” Joe frowned.
“Yes. That their time in the mountains was more traumatic than they let on, and that she snapped and just sort of lost it at the museum. I suppose that’s possible. And that might explain why Brian is covering for her.”
“I don’t believe Brian would cover for Heather if he believed she broke the law.”
“He might if he was trying to protect her because something happened up on that mountain. Something that sent Heather over the edge,” Kelly said. “And if that’s the case, I just hope Brian knows what he’s doing. What happens if Heather ends up hurting someone? She could have killed Ginny today if one of those things had hit her just right.”
Twenty-Eight
Thursday evening Eva Thorndike stood in the portrait wing of the Frederickport museum, admiring her painting. For security reasons, this area of the museum had limited hours and heightened security because of the valuable portraits on display. Yet at this hour of the night, they locked down the entire museum.
Eva, who had been a famous silent movie star during her lifetime, had also performed in the theater. She had met the artist of these paintings during her time in the theater. Many people had compared her likeness to the Gibson Girl, a pen-ink-illustration of Charles Dana Gibson. The artist had captured this resemblance in Eva’s portrait.
She turned her attention to Walt’s painting and smiled. It made her happy that her old friend no longer stumbled in the darkness but was back on the path to fulfil his destiny. With that thought, she decided to pop down to the cemetery. It had been the last place Walt had seen the spirit, and if the spirit had not moved on, perhaps she might find him there and learn what he hadn’t told Walt.
A few moments later Eva stood in the Frederickport cemetery. The evening breeze rustled the treetops, while the crescent moon dimly lit the sky. She gravitated toward the older section of the cemetery, and that was where she found him, standing over the grave of Nanny Benson Becker. Or at least, she assumed it was him, considering his beard and manner of dress, the faded denim pants, worn flannel shirt, boots and floppy hat.
“Someone you know?” Eva asked.
The spirit of the man turned and faced her. He looked her up and down and said, “Yes. My sister, Nanny. Who are you?”
“I’m Eva Thorndike, a friend of Walt Marlow’s. I would like to talk to you.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand any of this. Is he a ghost? Are you? What am I?”
Eva reached out one hand and said, “Come, let’s talk. I can help you. And you can help my friend.”
Together Bud and Eva sat in the moonlight in the cemetery, close to his sister’s headstone. After Eva explained his new reality—along with Walt’s—she asked him to explain a few things. Before he did, he shook his head in confusion.
“I can understand about me. I think I’ve known for a long time but refused to accept the fact. And if I understand about me, then understanding about you is easy. But what you tell me about Walt Marlow, that I can’t seem to fathom.”
“I imagine when you move on, you’ll have more clarity with what I’ve told you. I understand some things are easier to comprehend on the other side.”
He studied her a moment and then asked, “Why aren’t you there? Why are you here?”
Eva flashed him a soft smile. “Because, like Walt has his destiny, so do I. While there are common rules, common structure and order, there are no absolutes. Normally our path is to continue on, as I believe yours is. Yet for me, I still have things to do here.”
“And for Walt?” he asked.
“His path was interrupted, and they gave him another chance.”
“Why isn’t everyone given a second chance? I didn’t want my life to end when it did.”
“Because your journey has not been interrupted in the same way as Walt’s. Your personal journey continues on the other side.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“You will, eventually. But for now, tell me about Walt’s father and why you believe he is responsible for your death.”
Bud told Eva what she asked of him, and when he finished, she said, “You need to go to Walt and tell him what you know. And I believe you will move on in your journey after you put your body to rest.” She nodded at his sister’s headstone. “I have a feeling this is where you want it to be, and then you can go.”
Walt sat on one end of the library sofa with Danielle. She leaned against him with her feet on the other end of the sofa. Each held a book in hand, but instead of reading, they discussed Heather’s unfortunate incident in the museum.
“I don’t know who to feel sorrier for, Heather or Ginny,” Danielle said.
“What about poor Brian?” Walt asked.
“Brian? Ahh, that’s payback for all the times he wanted to arrest me for murder,” Danielle scoffed.
Walt chuckled.
“As soon as we see Marie or Eva, we need to have them go over to Ginny’s house and try reasoning with Caitlin. And maybe find out what treasure she keeps referring to,” Danielle suggested.
“You believe Cory can see her?” Walt asked.
“The things he’s said to Heather, what other conclusion can I come to?” Danielle asked. “And if he can see Caitlin, well, there must be something special in the water here.”
“What do you mean?” Walt asked.
“I have lived with this—gift—since I was a child. And until I moved to Oregon, I had never known another person who claimed to see or talk to spirits. But since moving here, I keep stumbling over one medium after another. What is it about this place?” Danielle asked.
Walt moved his right arm around Danielle’s shoulder and brought her closer. “Perhaps you knew other mediums, but they never revealed themselves. Perhaps they were always there, but you never saw them.”
Danielle shrugged. “I suppose that’s possible.”
“Walt Marlow, I would like to talk to you,” a male voice interrupted.
Walt and Danielle looked up to see Bud standing in the middle of Marlow House’s library.
“Bud?” Walt said, standing up from the sofa.
Bud looked at Danielle. “Can I talk alone with Walt, please?”
“Okay.” Danielle stood up from the sofa. She walked toward the door, and before stepping into the hall, she glanced back at Walt and Bud and muttered under her breath, “My life’s not weird at all.”
Walt leaned back on the sofa while Bud sat across from him in a chair.
“I met your friend Eva Thorndike. She explained things to me.”
“Didn’t I do that at the cemetery?” Walt asked.
“I thought you were a ghost then.”
Walt smiled. “I guess she explained everything.”
“I don’t understand, not really. But Eva says I will, eventually.”
“Sometimes I wake up, and I don’t quite believe it.” Walt grinned.
“Do you remember me?” Bud asked.
“Yes.”
Bud leaned back in the chair and crossed one leg over his opposing knee. He studied Walt and said, “You used to call me Uncle Bud.”
“Yes, I remember,” Walt said. “Will you tell me now why you think my father was responsible for your death?”
“Will you do me a favor first?” Bud asked.
“What?”
“I want to be buried at the Frederickport Cemetery. My sister is there. Before I move on, I want my body brought down from the mountains.”
I can’t imagine there is much left, Walt thought to himself but instead said, “Do you know where you were buried?”
“Yes. I returned to the mountain after we talked in the cemetery and found my grave. I can show you.”
“If I agree to this, will you explain about my father?” Walt asked.
“Yes. But not until you move my body to Frederickport.”
“Can’t you at least tell me after you show me where the body is?” Walt asked.
Bud considered the question and then said, “Let me think about it.”
“If you won’t tell me about my father now, will you tell me about Teddy Newsome?” Walt asked.
Bud frowned. “What about him?”
“What do you know about Teddy? Was he my father’s friend?”
Bud frowned. “Don’t you remember?”
“Remember what?”
“You used to call him Uncle Teddy, like you called me Uncle Bud.”
“I remember he used to sneak me candy,” Walt said.
“That was like Ted, buying a person’s affections,” Bud scoffed.
Walt studied Bud quizzically. “You weren’t friends with Teddy?”
Bud let out a sigh and
said, “What do you want to know?”
“Everything you remember about Teddy, in relation to my parents.”
“We all grew up together.” Bud paused a moment and then asked, “Did you know your father’s birthday was December 5?”
“Yes. Why?”
“That’s the day Alexandre Dumas died. Your father used to say he was his reincarnation. He claimed that’s why he’d been named Alexander.” Bud chuckled.
“Are you talking about the French author?” Walt frowned.
Bud nodded. “Yes. Your father didn’t really believe that, but he loved his books, and when he found out Dumas had died a few years before he was born, on the same day, your father liked to say he was his reincarnation. He also called us the three musketeers, which was his favorite of Dumas’s works. But that’s when we were boys, and I suppose it suited us back then. We were once close. Like brothers.”
“Once?”
“Yes. None of us had brothers. I had my sister. But your father and Teddy didn’t have siblings.”
“What happened to the friendship?” Walt asked.
“I suppose it lasted longer than many friendships. Looking back, the unravelling began when girls came into our world.”
“How so?” Walt asked.
“Your mother and Teddy’s wife, Maddie, were best friends. When we met them, Teddy fell hopelessly in love with your mother.”
“Teddy and my mother?” Walt choked out.
“Teddy never had a chance,” Bud said with a snort. “Your parents fell in love when they first met. And Maddie fell for me, but I wasn’t paying attention. There was a friend of my sister who had caught my eye, and I refused to see Maddie for anything but a friend. When she failed to get my attention, she turned to Teddy. They married, which was a mistake. Neither one loved the other. But Maddie’s parents had money, and they died in a boating accident, along with her three siblings, leaving her to inherit a sizable estate. She felt vulnerable, scared. That’s when they married.”