When she reached the first-floor landing, she paused a moment and glanced around. Nothing appeared to be amiss. She then headed for Walt’s room. There was no light coming from under his closed door. Standing a moment in front of his room, she briefly considered knocking, but if he was sleeping, it would just wake him up, and she saw no reason to disrupt his sleep, especially if the source of her anxiety was nothing more than a car backfiring. Why the car had stopped twice in front of her house was another matter, yet not necessarily an ominous one.
Instead of knocking, Danielle eased the door open and peeked inside. Moonlight spilled in through the partially open window blind, casting a golden glow over Walt’s bed—Walt’s empty bed.
“Walt?” Danielle quickly turned on the room light.
To her surprise she heard him call out, “Down here.”
Hurrying around the bed, Danielle came to an abrupt stop when she found Walt sprawled awkwardly on the floor while he shoved one crutch under the bed.
“What are you doing down there?” Danielle asked as she knelt down beside him and helped him to his feet.
“I dropped my cellphone,” he explained. “It went under the bed.”
“That’s why you didn’t answer my text,” Danielle said as she got him situated on the edge of the bed and then dropped back down to retrieve his phone.
“Did the gunshot wake you too?” Walt asked a moment later when Danielle stood up and handed him his cellphone.
“It wasn’t a gunshot. It was a car backfiring,” Danielle explained.
Walt shook his head. “No, it wasn’t.”
“I just spoke to Heather on the phone, and she said it was a backfire.”
Walt set the cellphone on his bed and reached out and grabbed Danielle’s wrists. He gently pulled her closer then maneuvered her to his left. They sat side by side on the mattress. “Listen to me. Remember when I saw Marie and Eva, and we wondered if I would be able to see all spirits, or just them?” He released hold of her wrists and sat back, studying her reaction.
Danielle nodded. “Sure, but what does that have to do with a car backfiring?”
“I believe I fall into the can see all ghosts category,” he told her.
Danielle frowned. “Why do you think that?”
“Because I saw Macbeth tonight. He was in my bedroom less than fifteen minutes ago.”
Danielle jumped up and ran to the open door. She slammed it shut, locked it, and then started dragging the dresser to block the doorway.
“What are you doing?” Walt asked.
“Making sure Macbeth doesn’t get in here again before I call the police!”
“I seriously doubt that dresser is going to stop him.”
Danielle frowned at Walt, perplexed at his relaxed demeanor. She wondered if perhaps he forgot he was no longer a ghost—no longer able to wield his spiritual powers. “I just want to slow him down until I call the police!” She reached into her pocket for her cellphone and then realized she had left it upstairs. Silently cursing, she reached for Walt’s cellphone, but he snatched it out of her hands.
“Listen to me,” Walt insisted.
“We need to call the police.”
“The police can’t help. Macbeth is dead.”
Danielle froze a moment, digesting Walt’s words. Finally, she asked, “What do you mean he’s dead?”
“Dead. You know, like I used to be.”
Danielle frowned. “What makes you think he’s dead?”
“I suppose my first clue was the fact he didn’t use the door. And then there was the bullet hole in his chest and all the blood.”
Danielle swallowed nervously. “Are you saying…”
Walt nodded. “Yes. Although I suppose he did use the door when he came in, but he went through it instead of opening it. And when leaving, he left through the wall.” Walt pointed to the west wall of his bedroom.
“Where do you think he was killed?” Danielle asked.
“I suspect somewhere on the first floor, considering the gunshot I heard and the fact I saw someone running from the house and getting into a car right afterwards.”
Danielle groaned and sat back down on the side of the bed with Walt. “That means there’s a dead body in this house.”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
Danielle glanced nervously at the closed door. “Are you sure the killer is gone?”
Walt nodded. “Yes. I’m pretty sure that’s who hopped in that car and sped off. When I heard the gunshot and it woke me up, the first thing I thought about was calling you, but I inadvertently knocked the phone on the floor, and it slid under the bed. Before I had a chance to retrieve it, Macbeth showed up.”
“Who killed him?”
“I tried to get him to tell me. But I don’t think he really understood he was dead.”
“That’s pretty typical.”
Walt nodded. “I suspect you would have been more successful than me at getting information from him. You’re rather good at that.”
“Do you know why he was here?” Danielle asked.
“That I know. He said he came to kill me.”
Danielle gasped. “Why?”
“He said because I double-crossed him, which is what I figured when he showed up waving that gun at me.”
“But you were going to give him the paintings Monday! Why kill you today?”
Walt shrugged. “I have no idea. But I suspect had you woken up this morning and found me dead, he would have shown up to collect the portraits on Monday.”
“After killing you? That would be a little nervy.”
Walt chuckled. “Nervy? More along the lines that he would look like a man without a motive—after all, like you said, I had promised to give him the portraits on Monday, something he knew you were witness to hearing me tell him.”
“So even though you were going to give him the paintings, and he would not have to share the money with you—since he still believed they were the originals—he still was going to kill you?” Danielle asked indignantly.
Walt shrugged. “Some people just hold a grudge.”
“I guess,” Danielle grumbled.
“We should probably go look for the body,” Walt suggested.
With a groan, Danielle stood, picked up Walt’s crutches from the floor, and waited for him to get on his feet—or more accurately his right foot. She handed him his crutches, and together they made their way to the bedroom door. After shoving the dresser back to its original location, she opened the door, and Walt hobbled out first. The moment Danielle stepped into the dimly lit hallway with him, Walt froze.
“Someone’s at the door,” he said in a loud whisper.
Danielle’s first instinct was to run back into the bedroom and lock the door behind her, but she couldn’t leave Walt standing alone in the hallway, and he wasn’t able to move that fast.
Whoever was at the front door managed to get it unlocked. Panicked, Danielle looked around for something to use as a weapon. The door opened. She snatched a heavy vase from a nearby hall table and was preparing to hurl it when a man stepped inside, aiming a handgun in their direction.
Seeing the gun first, Danielle gasped, but in the next breath she cried in relief, “Chris?” while almost dropping the vase. Behind Chris was Heather, who flipped on the entry switch as she walked into the house, flooding the hallway with bright light.
“Why were you two standing in the dark?” Heather asked, closing the door behind her.
“And what were you planning to do with that vase,” Chris asked as he tucked the handgun back in his shoulder holster.
“Since when did you start carrying a gun?” Danielle asked as she set the vase back on the table.
“You know I’ve been toying with the idea ever since the kidnapping,” Chris told her.
“He got it last week,” Heather interjected. “I told him he’d better be careful not to shoot himself.”
“I thought you got Hunny for protection,” Danielle asked.
Walt chuckled. “Hunny is the equivalent of carrying an unloaded gun.”
“I don’t know about that,” Heather said. “I suspect if necessary, she would surprise us all.”
Chris looked to Heather. “So I guess this means you dragged me over here for nothing? Aren’t you glad I didn’t let you call Lily and Ian?”
Walt and Danielle exchanged glances, and then Danielle asked, “Lily and Ian?”
“Heather wanted me to call in all the troops. But I told her there’s no reason for us to drag them out of bed for nothing.”
“Well…not exactly nothing,” Danielle said.
Heather glanced around the entry hall. “Did something happen?”
“I think we have a dead body in the house,” Walt announced.
Before they could explain what had happened that evening, Danielle suggested they move to the nearby living room so Walt could sit down. She held her breath when entering the room and turning on its light, fearful of finding Macbeth’s lifeless body. But he wasn’t there.
The four sat in the living room, the doors to the hallway wide open, while Walt recounted the evening’s events. When he finished, they sat in silence, each mustering the courage to do what needed to be done—go on a macabre search to find Macbeth’s body.
The silence was broken when footsteps were heard coming down the hall. Whoever it was, they were not coming from the direction of the front door. Chris stood and placed a finger over his lips to signal silence while removing the gun from his holster with his free hand. He turned to the doorway, gun ready, when Lily came bursting into the room. She came to an abrupt stop when finding a gun aimed at her.
“Holy crap, Chris, don’t shoot!” Lily called out.
Chris quickly lowered the gun and returned it to the holster as Ian entered the room next.
“What is going on over here?” Ian asked.
“Chris has a gun!” Lily told him.
“Yes, I saw that.” Ian looked from Chris to the other three people in the room.
“Why are you guys here?” Danielle finally asked.
“We were watching a movie, and I heard a car backfire. I looked outside and saw a car sitting in front of your house, its motor running. And then someone came running out from your front bushes and jumped in the car and drove away,” Lily explained. “I tried calling you, but there was no answer. Then we saw Chris and Heather creeping up your front walk—but I didn’t know it was them.”
“I was not creeping,” Chris insisted.
Lily shrugged. “Walt’s bedroom lights were already on, and then I saw more lights go on downstairs. And then I saw the lights go on in here and all of you walking in.”
“She insisted we come over to check on you,” Ian told them.
“I confess, I wondered why you were having a party without us. But after having Chris draw a gun on me, I suspect this isn’t a social call,” Lily said. “What’s up?”
“Not a party. More a scavenger hunt,” Chris told them.
“Scavenger hunt?” Lily asked. “What are we looking for?”
“A dead body,” Danielle blurted.
Twenty-Four
“Shouldn’t we just call the chief?” Lily suggested after Walt and Danielle explained what had happened that evening. “Dead bodies, well, that’s sort of his thing.”
“I’m afraid the chief isn’t in town,” Danielle told her. “He took the boys to Portland. They had some family thing going on tomorrow.”
“Which is technically today,” Chris reminded them. He sat with the rest of his friends in the living room, where they had all been since Walt and Danielle had begun telling the story of Macbeth’s ghost.
Ian stood. “Chris, let’s go look for him. Lily, you can stay here.” He looked to Danielle and Heather. “No reason for you two to go; Chris and I can do it.” He turned to Walt. “With that leg, you should probably just stay here with the girls.”
Danielle stood. “This girl is going to help look. I’m not a stranger to death—and who knows, maybe Macbeth’s spirit went back to be with his body. If so, I need to talk to him, find out who killed him.”
Heather stood. “Me too. It won’t be my first dead body. That seems to be the one thing I’m good at. Tripping over dead bodies.”
“Okay,” Lily grumbled. “I can help look. I don’t imagine it’s going to take long, anyhow.”
Walt pushed himself up on one foot while picking up the crutches leaning against the sofa. “I’m not staying here. Let’s go find the body.”
“This will go faster if we split up. But I think Chris should go with Lily, and Heather with Ian,” Danielle suggested.
“Why can’t I search with Ian?” Lily asked.
“Because when we find the body, it’s always possible Macbeth’s spirit will be nearby. If so, we need to find out who killed him. You and Ian can’t see spirits,” Danielle explained.
“You have a point,” Lily conceded. “Plus, I’d rather be with the guy who has a gun.”
“So do you know how to use that thing?” Lily asked as she and Chris walked through the parlor.
“I took a class. I’ve been going to the range, doing a little target practice.”
“I’ve always wanted to learn how to shoot. Now Dani, she’s got a bit of a gun phobia.”
“Yeah, I know. Although, she held it together when I walked in her front door tonight pointing the gun at her and Walt.”
“So I’m not the only one you’ve pointed that thing at?” Lily asked. “Don’t those classes say something about not aiming guns at friends?”
Chris flashed Lily a smile. “At the time, I thought you were an intruder.”
“Just glad you aren’t trigger-happy.” Lily headed to the door. “Where to now?”
“The bathroom,” Chris told her.
When they reached the downstairs powder room, the door was partially closed. Before opening it all the way, Chris stuck his hand inside and turned on the overhead light. When they opened the door, there was no body—but there was something on the floor that shouldn’t be there.
“A gun!” Lily gasped, looking down at the handgun lying just inside the room.
“Don’t touch it!” Chris warned.
Just before Chris and Lily found the gun in the bathroom, Walt and Danielle were in the kitchen, and Ian and Heather had just walked through the dining room, finding nothing out of order.
“No one’s screamed. I guess they haven’t found him yet,” Heather grumbled after they left the dining room.
“Let’s check the basement.”
“But it’s creepy down there.” Heather cringed.
“Creepier if we find the body,” Ian reminded her.
Now standing at the entrance to the basement, Ian took a deep breath and opened the door. It was dark save for the dim glow from a nightlight. Heather reached around Ian and flipped on the overhead light switch. In the next moment light flooded the stairwell.
Ian spied the body first, but it was Heather who let out a blood-chilling scream moments after Chris and Lily found the gun.
Officer Brian Henderson felt as if he had stepped into the movie Clue. It wasn’t the first time he had had that sensation in this house, considering this wasn’t his first dead body at Marlow House. It wasn’t even the first murdered one.
It had started to rain right after he got the call. When he had pulled up to Marlow House, lightning streaked over the mansard roofline, giving the scene an ominous feel—something quite Clue-ish, he thought.
When he had arrived after Peter Morris had been murdered in the house over a year ago, it hadn’t surprised him that the witnesses on the scene that evening wore nightclothes; after all, they were guests staying at the bed and breakfast. He wondered why all his witnesses tonight were wearing nightclothes, considering only two of the six were staying at Marlow House. Were they having some sort of slumber party? he wondered.
Standing in the center of the library, notebook in hand, Brian quietly took inventory of the witness
es. Chris sat on the sofa, between Heather and Danielle. When Morris had been murdered, Brian remembered Heather had accused Chris of the crime. She had been wrong, and it was obvious to Brian, Chris did not hold a grudge, considering he knew Heather now worked for the man. Sitting across from the sofa was Clint Marlow. Brian found it difficult to think of the man by any other name. In the chair next to Clint, Ian sat with Lily sitting on his knee. Beyond the closed doors of the library, the crime scene was being processed and Macbeth’s body taken away.
Danielle broke the silence. “Don’t you want to hear what happened?”
“I’m waiting for Joe,” Brian explained. “I’d prefer to talk to you separately, in the parlor. I was hoping to avoid having you all come down to the station to do this.”
“Why do you have to talk to us separately?” Heather asked.
“You don’t think we’re responsible for that man’s death, do you?” Lily blurted.
Brian looked to Walt. “I suspect someone in this room is.”
“This is really silly, Brian. You’re just wasting time,” Danielle said when she went into the parlor with him ten minutes later while Joe stayed with her friends. “We could have told you everything in the library.”
“Why don’t you just tell me what happened, so we can speed it up?” Brian told her.
Danielle took a seat on the sofa while Brian sat down on the chair facing her.
“I heard what sounded like a gunshot. At first, I wasn’t sure if it was just a dream. I sent Walt a text message to see if he was okay.”
“You mean Clint?”
Danielle rolled her eyes. “Please, Brian, don’t go there. His legal name is Walter Clint Marlow. What is the big deal? He wants to go by his first name now.”
Brian shrugged. “Just seems a little…well, creepy…considering another Walt Marlow lived here.”
“There is nothing creepy about it. Do you want to hear what happened tonight or not?”
Brian nodded. “Go on.”
“Walt didn’t answer the text message. What I didn’t know, he had heard the sound too, and when he reached for his cellphone from the nightstand, he had knocked it on the floor, and it went under his bed.”
The Ghost of Second Chances Page 15