Chance of a Ghost

by E. J. Copperman

  “Yes, we have,” Nan said. “I love walking on the boardwalk in a brisk breeze. And on the beach. But thanks for mentioning it, Melissa.” She smiled what seemed like a sincere smile at Liss, and I started to feel badly that I had somehow let the Hendersons down while they were my guests.

  “I know you’ve been touring some of the lighthouses in the area,” I said. “How many have you seen?”

  “All of them,” Morgan answered, sounding like he’d been asked how many hideous diseases he’d been exposed to. “All of them.”

  “I feel bad,” I told Nan. “You came here wanting a relaxing vacation, and I feel that somehow you haven’t gotten what you came for. Please tell me if there’s something I can do.”

  Nan took a guilty glance at Melissa, perhaps wondering if she should say something in front of my daughter. Taking the hint, I said to Liss, “Could you check on Jeannie and then maybe put the kettle on for tea? I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Henderson are cold and would like a warm drink.”

  Liss gave me a look like the kind Hendersons had been giving me for the past few days—an expression that asked if I’d gone mad—but said, “Sure,” and walked toward the kitchen to put the water on to boil. Practical girl, my daughter.

  I looked back at Nan once Liss was out of earshot. “Was there something you wanted to say?” I asked.

  “No, no,” Nan repeated. But she betrayed herself. “Not really.”

  “Go ahead,” I said. “Even if I can’t do anything to make your stay more pleasant, your telling me about a problem might help with future guests. I want you to tell me if I’ve done something wrong.”

  Nan, who had deposited her coat and various other outerwear items on the nearest sofa cushion, pointed to the loveseat opposite. “Perhaps we should sit down,” she said.

  “Please.” We all took seats, Morgan at the other end of the loveseat, me on the ottoman at the foot of the easy chair. “Tell me what the problem is.”

  “Well, to begin with, what I said was true,” Nan told me. “We do feel like we’ve exhausted our possibilities here. Morgan especially has been…saying that he’s seen enough lighthouses and tiny seaside museums. It really is a warm-weather area, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, though it’s lovely in the winter as well,” I answered a touch defensively. “I do understand your feelings, but I get the impression there’s something else.”

  Nan nodded. “There is.” She waited a moment while Melissa walked through on her way to the game room to talk to Jeannie. Liss gave me a surreptitious look indicating her confusion, just about at the time Maxie pushed her way through the wall over the piano (which had come with the house and which no one who lives here knows how to play) and hovered near one of the exposed beams, where a television production crew had hung a flat-screen TV the previous spring. It’s a long story.

  Once Liss was out of the way, Nan nodded at me again. “We’ve both gotten the impression that something is making you tense, and that’s been creating a feeling of…unease with us. Like we’re intruding, and we don’t want to intrude.”

  “Oh no!” I protested. “You’re not intruding at all! I’m very happy you’re here. It’s just…well, as I told you the other night, I’ve been having some family difficulties. It’s not a terrible issue, but it has been weighing on my mind. I sincerely apologize if that’s been interfering with you having a good time; that’s the last thing I’d want.”

  The couple exchanged a glance; surely they had indeed thought my “family issues” were making their stay uncomfortable. “I don’t want to pry,” Nan said. “But what’s the status of your family situation now? Because if this is going to be an ongoing thing…”

  “I promise you, you’ll never even notice anything going on,” I said, probably rashly, since Maxie was already snorting laughter. “Please, tell me what kind of vacation you’d like to have for the next four days, and I’ll do all I can to make that happen.”

  Again, a glance between the two. Morgan, of course, looked unenthusiastic—he was probably seeing more lighthouses in his future—but he nodded.

  The whistling from the kitchen indicated the kettle was boiling, but before I could move, Melissa ran through like a track star and pushed open the kitchen’s swinging door. Seconds later, the whistling stopped. Nan smiled, perhaps for the first time in days without the undercoating of tension.

  “Well, one thing you could do is direct us toward some of the more infamous crime scenes in the area,” she said.

  Suuuuure…“I beg your pardon?” I asked.

  She chuckled, and Morgan looked sheepish. “You see, Morgan just retired. He was chief of police in Ringwood, up in Passaic County. He’s really interested in unsolved crimes.”

  “Unsolved,” Morgan repeated, nodding.

  Nan tilted her head toward him and lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “He had to quit his job because he can barely hear. He usually wears hearing aids, but he thinks they make him look old. So he takes them out and repeats things people say to him like that’s a conversation.” She rolled her eyes. “Cops.”

  A real cop, whose brain I could pick without suffering McElone’s snide condescension? Gold mine! However, immediately asking him to consult on my case might damage this fragile peace we’d just established. Let him settle in on the idea first. “But you’re not wearing hearing aids now,” I shouted in Morgan’s direction.

  “New models,” he said, giving Nan a look that indicated his displeasure with her sharing his difficulty. “Coming here today.”

  “Could you watch for the package?” Nan asked. “He’s so much less grumpy when he can hear.”

  “I absolutely will,” I said, wondering what a less grumpy Morgan would be like.

  Nan raised her voice back to a level that Morgan, who was leaning forward in a vain effort to hear her, could pick up. “So if you could furnish us with a list of some crime scenes we might be able to reach from here…” she reminded me.

  I looked up at Maxie. “I’ll research that on my computer immediately and get back to you,” I said. “Give me”—Maxie held up both hands—“ten minutes.” Maxie vanished into the ceiling.

  “Thank you,” Nan said. “I think this vacation just got a lot better for us.”

  “Me, too,” I answered.

  Maxie delivered the list to me a few minutes later and I passed it on to Nan. She and Morgan seemed quite pleased with it, although I was now worried about how many notable crime scenes we had in the area. After tea (Morgan had coffee), they said they would get out there and start visiting the areas suggested the next day, but first they went out to do some shopping and find some dinner.

  Once they were on their way, and before I could reflect on the welcome, if odd, turn our relationship had just taken, the doorbell did indeed ring, and Billy the FedEx guy delivered Morgan’s hearing aids, which figured; he’d have to wait until he returned to de-grumpify. I called for Paul, who rose up out of the basement and without prompting began to take stock of the investigation he thought we were conducting, which I was conducting.

  “So let’s be clear,” he began, stroking his goatee at a fevered pitch. “We’ve discovered that the box office manager where Mr. Laurentz worked was the person to discover his body and call the authorities. We’ve also established that there were people who worked with him there who were angry with Mr. Laurentz, particularly Ms. Carter, who felt that he had informed on her and caused her to be fired.”

  I figured if Paul was going to sum up, I might as well make myself useful—I knew all this stuff already—and began cleaning up the kitchen. There wasn’t much to clean, since making tea and coffee doesn’t require a huge operation, but it was something.

  “Then there was the theater company, the Old New Thespians,” he continued without missing a beat.

  “New Old Thespians,” I corrected. There weren’t enough dishes to bother with the dishwasher; I’d just wash them by hand in the sink.

  “New Old Thespians,” Paul repeated, trying to mainta
in his rhythm. “Clearly, Mr. Laurentz created a good deal of animosity there, to the point that he was asked to leave the group. But was that enough to anger someone to the point of violence?”

  “They got busted for being naked and they think he snitched on them,” I reminded him.

  Paul nodded. “Yes. We need to find out which ones were involved and how seriously they were punished. That could be a motive. The news report Maxie found wasn’t very specific; no names were mentioned. Can you talk to Lieutenant McElone again?”

  I put the cups in the dish drainer and wiped my hands with a towel. “I don’t have to,” I told him, thinking I could ask Morgan.”I can utilize the power of the press.”

  Sixteen

  All that gave us a lot to discuss, but as I drew breath to reply, Nan Henderson called from the front room, “Alison?” Her voice was tentative, as if wondering whether she wanted me to respond or not.

  I gave Jeannie and Melissa a look that warned against any further murder-related conversation right now, and I called back, “Right here, Nan. I’ll be there in a second.”

  Jeannie stayed to change Oliver’s diaper, but Melissa followed me into the front room, where Nan and Morgan were unbundling from the biting temperatures outside. There was enough outerwear being tossed onto my couch to start a consignment shop. Paul dropped through the floor; he rarely interacts with the guests when he doesn’t have to.

  “Is there something I can do for you?” I asked when I got there. Melissa, in her (unofficial) role as assistant manager, stood behind me, by virtue of her youth keeping the guests from looking at me like I was a dangerous felon on the loose.

  Nan gave Melissa a glance, then looked at me almost timidly. “Yes,” she said finally. “I know we’re scheduled to stay until Tuesday, but…”

  That kind of sentence rarely ended well. “Do you need to cut your vacation short?” I asked. “I hope there’s no emergency at home.”

  “At home,” Morgan said, apparently to remind us he was still alive.

  “No, no,” Nan assured me. “It’s just, well, we think it’s possible we’ve exhausted the tourist possibilities for the area. I’m sure that during the summer, with the beach nearby, there’s a lot to do, but…”

  I was about to give in and tally up their bill, but Melissa stepped forward. “Oh no, there’s plenty to do here during the winter!” she gushed. “Have you been to the boardwalk yet?”

  “Yes, we have,” Nan said. “I love walking on the boardwalk in a brisk breeze. And on the beach. But thanks for mentioning it, Melissa.” She smiled what seemed like a sincere smile at Liss, and I started to feel badly that I had somehow let the Hendersons down while they were my guests.

  “I know you’ve been touring some of the lighthouses in the area,” I said. “How many have you seen?”

  “All of them,” Morgan answered, sounding like he’d been asked how many hideous diseases he’d been exposed to. “All of them.”

  “I feel bad,” I told Nan. “You came here wanting a relaxing vacation, and I feel that somehow you haven’t gotten what you came for. Please tell me if there’s something I can do.”

  Nan took a guilty glance at Melissa, perhaps wondering if she should say something in front of my daughter. Taking the hint, I said to Liss, “Could you check on Jeannie and then maybe put the kettle on for tea? I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Henderson are cold and would like a warm drink.”

  Liss gave me a look like the kind Hendersons had been giving me for the past few days—an expression that asked if I’d gone mad—but said, “Sure,” and walked toward the kitchen to put the water on to boil. Practical girl, my daughter.

  I looked back at Nan once Liss was out of earshot. “Was there something you wanted to say?” I asked.

  “No, no,” Nan repeated. But she betrayed herself. “Not really.”

  “Go ahead,” I said. “Even if I can’t do anything to make your stay more pleasant, your telling me about a problem might help with future guests. I want you to tell me if I’ve done something wrong.”

  Nan, who had deposited her coat and various other outerwear items on the nearest sofa cushion, pointed to the loveseat opposite. “Perhaps we should sit down,” she said.

  “Please.” We all took seats, Morgan at the other end of the loveseat, me on the ottoman at the foot of the easy chair. “Tell me what the problem is.”

  “Well, to begin with, what I said was true,” Nan told me. “We do feel like we’ve exhausted our possibilities here. Morgan especially has been…saying that he’s seen enough lighthouses and tiny seaside museums. It really is a warm-weather area, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, though it’s lovely in the winter as well,” I answered a touch defensively. “I do understand your feelings, but I get the impression there’s something else.”

  Nan nodded. “There is.” She waited a moment while Melissa walked through on her way to the game room to talk to Jeannie. Liss gave me a surreptitious look indicating her confusion, just about at the time Maxie pushed her way through the wall over the piano (which had come with the house and which no one who lives here knows how to play) and hovered near one of the exposed beams, where a television production crew had hung a flat-screen TV the previous spring. It’s a long story.

  Once Liss was out of the way, Nan nodded at me again. “We’ve both gotten the impression that something is making you tense, and that’s been creating a feeling of…unease with us. Like we’re intruding, and we don’t want to intrude.”

  “Oh no!” I protested. “You’re not intruding at all! I’m very happy you’re here. It’s just…well, as I told you the other night, I’ve been having some family difficulties. It’s not a terrible issue, but it has been weighing on my mind. I sincerely apologize if that’s been interfering with you having a good time; that’s the last thing I’d want.”

  The couple exchanged a glance; surely they had indeed thought my “family issues” were making their stay uncomfortable. “I don’t want to pry,” Nan said. “But what’s the status of your family situation now? Because if this is going to be an ongoing thing…”

  “I promise you, you’ll never even notice anything going on,” I said, probably rashly, since Maxie was already snorting laughter. “Please, tell me what kind of vacation you’d like to have for the next four days, and I’ll do all I can to make that happen.”

  Again, a glance between the two. Morgan, of course, looked unenthusiastic—he was probably seeing more lighthouses in his future—but he nodded.

  The whistling from the kitchen indicated the kettle was boiling, but before I could move, Melissa ran through like a track star and pushed open the kitchen’s swinging door. Seconds later, the whistling stopped. Nan smiled, perhaps for the first time in days without the undercoating of tension.

  “Well, one thing you could do is direct us toward some of the more infamous crime scenes in the area,” she said.

  Suuuuure…“I beg your pardon?” I asked.

  She chuckled, and Morgan looked sheepish. “You see, Morgan just retired. He was chief of police in Ringwood, up in Passaic County. He’s really interested in unsolved crimes.”

  “Unsolved,” Morgan repeated, nodding.

  Nan tilted her head toward him and lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “He had to quit his job because he can barely hear. He usually wears hearing aids, but he thinks they make him look old. So he takes them out and repeats things people say to him like that’s a conversation.” She rolled her eyes. “Cops.”

  A real cop, whose brain I could pick without suffering McElone’s snide condescension? Gold mine! However, immediately asking him to consult on my case might damage this fragile peace we’d just established. Let him settle in on the idea first. “But you’re not wearing hearing aids now,” I shouted in Morgan’s direction.

  “New models,” he said, giving Nan a look that indicated his displeasure with her sharing his difficulty. “Coming here today.”

  “Could you watch for the package?” Nan asked. “He’s
so much less grumpy when he can hear.”

  “I absolutely will,” I said, wondering what a less grumpy Morgan would be like.

  Nan raised her voice back to a level that Morgan, who was leaning forward in a vain effort to hear her, could pick up. “So if you could furnish us with a list of some crime scenes we might be able to reach from here…” she reminded me.

  I looked up at Maxie. “I’ll research that on my computer immediately and get back to you,” I said. “Give me”—Maxie held up both hands—“ten minutes.” Maxie vanished into the ceiling.

  “Thank you,” Nan said. “I think this vacation just got a lot better for us.”

  “Me, too,” I answered.

  Maxie delivered the list to me a few minutes later and I passed it on to Nan. She and Morgan seemed quite pleased with it, although I was now worried about how many notable crime scenes we had in the area. After tea (Morgan had coffee), they said they would get out there and start visiting the areas suggested the next day, but first they went out to do some shopping and find some dinner.

  Once they were on their way, and before I could reflect on the welcome, if odd, turn our relationship had just taken, the doorbell did indeed ring, and Billy the FedEx guy delivered Morgan’s hearing aids, which figured; he’d have to wait until he returned to de-grumpify. I called for Paul, who rose up out of the basement and without prompting began to take stock of the investigation he thought we were conducting, which I was conducting.

  “So let’s be clear,” he began, stroking his goatee at a fevered pitch. “We’ve discovered that the box office manager where Mr. Laurentz worked was the person to discover his body and call the authorities. We’ve also established that there were people who worked with him there who were angry with Mr. Laurentz, particularly Ms. Carter, who felt that he had informed on her and caused her to be fired.”

  I figured if Paul was going to sum up, I might as well make myself useful—I knew all this stuff already—and began cleaning up the kitchen. There wasn’t much to clean, since making tea and coffee doesn’t require a huge operation, but it was something.