The Ghost and Little Marie

by Anna J. McIntyre

  Sunny set the file she had been holding on the counter. “It sounds to me like the family might be considering some sort of malpractice suit.”

  “Against us?” Candy gasped. “We didn’t do anything wrong!”

  Sunny shook her head. “It could be against her doctors. Maybe they suspect something went wrong in surgery that caused a problem down the road.”

  “Or they may think we did something wrong,” SeAnne said nervously.

  Sunny reached out and patted SeAnne’s hand. “I don’t believe any of us here did anything wrong. You’re an excellent nurse, SeAnne. I see how you are with your patients. You’re kind, conscientious, and they are lucky to have you. I monitor the medications, and I know without a doubt she didn’t die from some overdose. They certainly won’t find any lethal traces of any medication in her blood. That leaves medical malpractice from her doctors—but that really is no reflection on us. It’s not like she was showing any signs of illness. Even her physical therapist said she was doing well. It was simply old age catching up to her.”

  “Or someone killed her,” Candy whispered.

  “Candy!” SeAnne snapped. “That’s a horrible thing to say!”

  “I was thinking about her family,” Candy explained. “Remember the night before Mrs. Nichols died, she threatened to change her will. I’m not the only one who heard that argument.”

  “If that was the case, why would the family request an autopsy?” SeAnne asked.

  “Because maybe it wasn’t requested by the guilty family member?” Sunny suggested.

  It wasn’t until Danielle installed a computer in the Marlow House library—for her guests—did Walt start wondering if it would be possible for him to learn how to use it. After all, he had mastered the television, how much more difficult could a computer be? When he had been first introduced to the laptop computer, Danielle had compared it to a television. The desktop computer sitting in the library resembled the television even more than the laptop, so wouldn’t it stand to reason it would be as easy to use? At least, that was what Walt surmised.

  He was sitting at the computer, his hands idly resting on the keyboard, when Marie appeared by his side. “Heavens, do you know how to use one of those things?”

  Startled by Marie’s abrupt appearance, Walt quickly moved his hands from the keyboard and settled them on his lap. “When did you come back?”

  “Just now. I was down at the funeral home, listening to my family argue.” Marie stood next to the desk and looked down at the computer. “Do you know how to use that?”

  “No. But I was thinking of asking Danielle to teach me.”

  Marie shuddered. “Oh my, why would you want to do that?”

  “Danielle once told me it was a little like a library. I miss going to the library.”

  Marie glanced around. “You’ve an impressive library here. My mother used to talk about it. She was quite taken with the fact you were such an avid reader and could never understand why you got involved with that dim-witted little gold digger.”

  Walt stood up. “I assume you mean Angela.”

  “My father talked about your great love affair,” Marie said with a snort.

  “We both know the truth about that.” Walt wandered over to the sofa and sat down. He watched as Marie took a chair across from him.

  “Eva told me Angela is at the local cemetery—her spirit, that is.”

  “Danielle says she’s under house arrest.” Walt chuckled.

  Resting her balled fists on her knees, Marie leaned forward. “So that means you two have never—since either of you died—seen each other?”

  “More accurately, not since I died. From what I understand, Angela came here after her death and tried to stop her brother from killing me. That didn’t exactly work out, and she ended up confined to the cemetery. Since then, we haven’t seen each other, nor do I have any desire to.”

  “Isn’t it frustrating to you, being confined to this house?” Marie asked.

  “With death as in life, we make choices. Had I followed Eva’s path, then I wouldn’t have the energy to…” With a wave of his hand Walt made the chair Marie was sitting in lift into the air and then float gently back to the floor.

  Marie laughed. “While I don’t care about moving furniture—I had a difficult time doing that when I was alive—I do miss being able to do simple things, like turn the page of a newspaper.”

  “In order to do that, you have two choices.” Walt waved his hand for a lit cigar. “You can move on to the other side—or stay in one location, which will allow you to utilize that saved energy, doing things like moving furniture or turning the page of a newspaper.”

  Marie considered the option a moment and then shook her head. “No, I can’t move on. I need to find out who murdered me. As for the other option, no. Walt, you died before you had a chance to grow old. In many ways, age confined me to my house, like death confined you to yours. Before I died, I needed a walker to make it across the room. And at night, there were countless trips to the bathroom. My bones constantly ached, and I had to rely on my grandson for basic things like taking me to the grocery store.”

  “And now?”

  Marie smiled. “My bones don’t hurt anymore, and while I may discover I miss enjoying one of Old Salts’ cinnamon rolls, I certainly don’t miss those trips to the bathroom. I must say, it was exhilarating going from the home to the police station, to my house and then here. I love the freedom!”

  “Don’t you want to move on? See your parents, your husband?”

  Marie smiled at Walt. “Don’t you?”

  Walt shrugged. “I’m not in a hurry.”

  “Neither am I. Plus, I need to find out who murdered me.”

  “I suspect you can find that out after you move on,” Walt said. “Moving on doesn’t mean you won’t find the answers.”

  Marie arched her brows. “Really? According to Danielle, you initially insisted on sticking around because you wanted to find your murderer. How is that any different from me?”

  “I suppose I wanted more than to just discover what had happened. I wanted the record set straight. I didn’t want everyone to keep thinking I had killed myself,” Walt explained.

  “That’s what I want…Although, no one thinks I killed myself, just that I died in my sleep.”

  Walt studied Marie a moment while the fingers of his right hand toyed with his cigar. “Are you sure you want that?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Marie, what happens if it was someone from your family?”

  Marie frowned. “What are you saying?”

  “Perhaps someone from your family is responsible for your death. After all, they had the financial motive,” Walt suggested.

  “More potatoes, maybe a ham…” Danielle muttered to herself as she added items to her grocery list. She sat alone in the kitchen. Yet she wouldn’t be alone for long.

  A crash and thump of the doggy door, followed by Sadie diving through the small opening into the kitchen, startled her. The golden retriever was already at Danielle’s side, pressing a wet nose into her wrist, begging for attention, when the kitchen door opened. In walked Ian and Lily.

  “You ready to go to the store?” Lily asked.

  “In a few minutes. I was just updating my list now that Marie’s family is coming,” Danielle said. “I was thinking maybe we should get a ham just to make sure we have enough. I already have the turkey thawing.”

  “When you called to tell me Marie’s family was on again, we stopped by Old Salts and picked up two more pies, pumpkin and pecan,” Lily said.

  “I can’t believe they had any left.” Danielle scratched pies off her list.

  “Heather’s bringing rolls. Do you think we should let her know the others are coming?” Lily asked.

  “I already called her. She said she has more than enough.”

  “Is Marie here?” Ian asked in a whisper, glancing around.

  “I saw her talking with Walt in the library. They
might still be in there. You want to go say hi?” Danielle grinned.

  “Yeah, right,” Ian said with a grunt as he took a seat at the table. “You just want me to go into the empty library and start up a conversation so you and Lily can laugh at me.”

  Lily reached out and patted Ian’s arm. “Now you have some idea how I’ve been feeling the past year. Starting up conversations and finding out no one is there. I’m just glad I’m not alone in all this anymore.” Lily took a place at the table. In the next moment, Sadie dashed from the room.

  “Say hi to Walt and Marie,” Ian called out to Sadie.

  Lily glanced to the doorway. “Marie hasn’t seen Sadie yet, has she?”

  “Not unless she stopped over at our place and we didn’t know,” Ian said. “Sadie’s been with me since Marie passed.”

  “What about Max?” Lily asked.

  “I don’t think so.” Danielle scribbled another item on the list.

  “Why do you care?” Ian asked.

  “Because they’re animals, and Marie is a ghost now,” Lily said as if her explanation made complete sense.

  Ian frowned. “What am I missing?”

  Danielle set her pen down and looked across the table at Ian. “Because most spirits I know are able to communicate with dogs and cats.”

  “I know, but—”

  Danielle interrupted Ian with, “It can be a little startling for a new spirit to realize he—or she—understands what the dog or cat is thinking.”

  As if on cue, Sadie started barking, the sound drifting from the library to the kitchen. By the volume and intensity, it sounded as if Sadie had cornered a rat—or a startled ghost.

  Twenty

  Sadie was still barking when Ian, Lily, and Danielle ran into the library a few moments later. With her attention riveted on the top bookshelf, Sadie continued to bark, her tail wagging.

  While Ian and Lily couldn’t see why the dog was barking, Danielle could, and she didn’t understand why Walt sat on the sofa, chuckling, and made no attempt to quiet Sadie.

  “What are you doing up there?” Danielle asked Marie. She then looked at Walt. “And why are you sitting there laughing?”

  “Sadie, quiet,” Ian admonished. Sadie stopped barking. Sitting down, the dog began to whimper while she continued to stare up toward the ceiling.

  Lily looked curiously up at the top bookshelf. “What’s up there?”

  “Marie,” Danielle explained. They all looked up to where Marie was supposedly hovering, inches from the ceiling.

  “It’s that dog!” Marie exclaimed. “I swear it talked to me! Maybe not in words, but she talked to me! That’s not right. Animals don’t talk to people.”

  Danielle glared over at Walt. “Really, Walt? You couldn’t just explain to poor Marie what was going on? You just sit there and laugh and let Sadie bark? Didn’t anyone teach you to respect your elders?”

  “Phonus balonus!” Walt said with a laugh.

  Danielle frowned. “Huh?”

  “Marie isn’t my elder. I knew her when she was born.” Still chuckling, he looked up at Marie. “It’s okay, Marie. One of the perks of being dead.”

  “Humpf…well, it’s almost demonic!” Marie grumbled. In the next moment she drifted down from the bookshelf, her feet landing on the floor.

  “What just happened?” Ian asked.

  “I think Marie was a little spooked when she realized she could read Sadie’s thoughts,” Danielle explained.

  “I’m sorry Sadie startled you, Marie,” Ian said.

  “Are you sure Ian can’t see and hear me?” Marie asked, noting the way Ian seemed to be looking directly at her.

  “No, he can’t,” Danielle insisted.

  “Marie, I just wanted to say,” Ian began.

  Eyeing Ian curiously, Marie moved several feet to her left and watched as Ian continued to direct his attention to the spot she had been standing at.

  “I was really sorry to hear of your passing—” Ian stopped midsentence and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I can get used to this.”

  “How do you think I feel?” Marie asked.

  “I think Ian means talking to someone he can’t see,” Danielle explained.

  “It is pretty bizarre,” Ian muttered. “But I want you to know, Marie, Lily told me about what happened to you. And I’ll do whatever I can to help find whoever is responsible for your death.”

  “Thank you, Ian. Knowing the famous Jon Altar will be looking into my murder makes me feel much better. But I never understood why you don’t write under your real name?”

  Before Danielle could convey Marie’s message to Ian, her phone rang with a text message. Removing the phone from her pocket, she looked at it. “It’s Adam. He wants to know what they should bring.”

  “None of them can cook a lick,” Marie said as she sat down on the chair across from Walt. “Although, I’m really not sure about that fiancée of Jason’s. Maybe she can.”

  “Tell them to bring wine,” Ian suggested.

  “Ohh, maybe that good stuff he bought Chris,” Danielle said with a giggle as she sent a text message to Adam.

  “Seriously, Dani, you really didn’t tell him to buy that expensive stuff,” Lily asked.

  “Nah. I don’t think Adam is in a mood for jokes right now,” Danielle said.

  “Speaking of Chris, have you heard from him?” Ian asked.

  “I talked to him earlier today. He wants to know when the funeral is so he can be back in time for it.”

  “What a sweet boy,” Marie said.

  Walt rolled his eyes.

  Catching a glimpse of Walt’s eye roll, Marie arched her brows. “I saw that, Walt Marlow.”

  “Saw what?” Walt asked guiltily.

  Danielle remained standing in the middle of the library, ignoring the exchange between Walt and Marie, still looking at her cellphone, a curious frown crossing her face.

  Noticing Danielle’s peculiar expression, Lily asked, “What is it?”

  “It’s an email…from Walt’s cousin…” Danielle’s finger repeatedly moved over the display. “A long email.”

  “Walt’s cousin?” Marie asked. “You’re in communication with one of Walt’s cousins? You never told me that.”

  Ian glanced over to Danielle. “Is that the Realtor you told us about?”

  “Why is he writing you?” Walt asked.

  Still looking at the iPhone display, Danielle made her way to the computer desk. “I found a distant cousin of Walt’s online. But I never contacted him.” Danielle sat down. “Yes, Ian, it is the Realtor. Marie, Adam came across this guy’s business website. He looks just like Walt’s portrait—and he share’s Walt’s name. It’s kind of eerie how much they look alike. Adam sent him a link to Marlow House’s website.”

  Marie frowned. “Why would Adam do that?”

  Danielle set her phone on the desk and glanced over to Marie and shrugged. “He’s your grandson.”

  “Foolish thing to do. You know nothing about this man, and now he’s emailing you?” Marie said. “I need to have a word with my grandson!”

  “Read the email!” Lily urged.

  “I’m going to pull it up on the computer. It looks pretty long. Not sure my eyes can take reading it on my phone.”

  “You’re getting old,” Walt teased.

  “Oh hush, you’re one to talk, old man!” Danielle shot back, suppressing a giggle.

  Several minutes later, Danielle opened the email on the library computer. Standing around her, looking over her shoulder, were Lily, Ian, Walt, and Marie. Danielle began to read aloud.

  “Dear Ms. Boatman. My legal name is Walter Clint Marlow. I go by my middle name, Clint. I’ve always hated my first name. It sounds like a nerd—”

  “What’s wrong with my name?” Walt asked angrily. “He’s the one that’s a nerd…uhh…what’s a nerd again?”

  Danielle glanced over her shoulder to Walt and smiled. “I like your name, Walt.”

  “I do too,”
Lily chimed in.

  Danielle began reading again. “My parents told me Walter and Clint were names passed down in our family. While I’ve never been fond of my name, I will have to say I was intrigued to discover the other Walt Marlow and learn how much we look alike. That really blew me away.

  “I am a real estate agent in California. A while back, a fellow Realtor sent me a link to your bed and breakfast website. I had heard about some distant cousins settling in Oregon, but I never knew anything about them. And frankly, genealogy has never interested me. But when I saw your website, I was intrigued.

  “I’m sending you a link to my real estate website. If you go to it, you’ll see my picture. When you look at it, you’ll see what I’m talking about. That portrait of the Walt Marlow who lived in your bed and breakfast is a dead ringer for me—”

  “Dead being the operative word,” Ian said under his breath.

  Danielle chuckled and then continued reading. “I would like to buy the portraits from you—of Walter and Angela Marlow—”

  “Buy my portraits? Absolutely not!” Walt interjected.

  After clearing her throat, Danielle resumed reading aloud. “I’m getting married this summer, and I think my fiancée would love the portrait of me. I know she would find the portrait, with its likeness so close to me, uncanny. I’m not particularly interested in the portrait of Angela Marlow, but I hate to break up the pair, and who knows, maybe I can get an artist to cover the wife’s face with my wife’s likeness. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

  “My cousin is a dimwit,” Walt muttered.

  “He sounds like an idiot if he wants to paint over that old portrait,” Lily added.

  “Of course, if you are opposed to me painting over the one portrait, and it’s a condition of the sale, I won’t make any changes to it. But I just figure, if it were me, I would hate to be saddled with two life-sized portraits of two strangers. People I’m not even related to. So basically, I’m making you an offer to take the portraits off your hands for a thousand dollars. I think that’s probably more than what they’re worth, but I’d really like to give them to my fiancée for a surprise wedding gift.