by Bobbi Holmes
“What do you teach?” Ian countered.
“Second grade.”
“Second grade? I teach…high school English.”
“High school? I’m afraid I wouldn’t last very long in high school. I did some subbing before I started working for my current district, and I hated subbing at high schools, but I think middle school was the worst.” Lily cringed.
“Well…that’s why we need summers off, right?” Ian grinned. He then turned to Danielle and asked, “So are you planning to live here full time?”
“Yes,” Danielle answered.
“She’s turning Marlow House into a bed and breakfast,” Lily announced.
“Really? An inn? Interesting. Do you have a target date for an opening?”
“Not really. Like Lily said, we just got here and I wasn’t even sure this house would work.”
“You mean you hadn’t seen it before?”
“No.”
“She inherited the house from her aunt,” Lily blurted out. Danielle flashed her friend a cool look yet Lily failed to grasp Danielle’s displeasure.
“It looks like a fascinating property. When you have time, perhaps you could give me a tour.”
“Tour? I suppose that would be possible. Maybe in a few days, when we get settled,” Danielle said.
“The man is lying. He isn’t a teacher.” Walt said before vanishing. Sadie began to whine, looking around anxiously.
“I think I better go now.” Ian glanced down at Sadie. “I’ve taken too much of your time.”
“Good lord, Lily,” Danielle said after Ian and Sadie departed. “Don’t you teach your students about strangers and dangers?”
“What are you talking about?” Lily asked while she peeked out the window and watched Ian and Sadie walk down the walk toward the street.
“The man is a perfect stranger and you just let him in the house?”
“He was looking for his dog.”
“Come on Lily. Haven’t you discussed the help me find my puppy ploy with your second graders?”
“Oh don’t be silly,” Lily scoffed. “I knew he was our neighbor. It’s not like he was just any stranger off the street. He was the one I saw with the spotting scope. And trust me Dani, if you’d seen the boy without his shirt, you would’ve let him in the house!”
“Lily, sometimes you drive me crazy!” Danielle tossed her hands up in defeat.
“Danielle, have you considered the fact you’ll be regularly welcoming strangers into your house once you turn this place into a B and B? And not just for a brief visit—they’ll be spending the night. When I leave in August, you’ll be sleeping in this house with strangers. All alone. If me letting the neighbor in the house makes you so nervous, maybe you need to reconsider your plans.”
When Danielle didn’t respond, Lily gave a shrug and told her she was going to go finish unpacking. Danielle watched Lily walk up the stairs.
“Are you reconsidering your plans?” Walt asked a moment later when he reappeared. He and Danielle stood alone at the landing of the staircase.
“I don’t know. Why did you say he wasn’t a teacher?”
“Because he’s not.”
“How can you you tell?”
“The dog told me.” Walt sat down on one of the steps.
“The dog? You talked to the dog?” Danielle sat down next to him.
“She didn’t actually talk to me. Dogs don’t talk you know. It was more, well a communicative exchange, so to speak.”
“She could see you.”
“Obviously.”
“Why would he lie about being a teacher?”
“I don’t know. Sadie didn’t say.”
“Sadie?”
“The dog. Her name is Sadie. She wasn’t chasing a squirrel, by the way. He used that as a ploy to meet you. Smart dog. Well trained.”
“So can all animals see you?”
“I don’t know. She’s the first one I remember seeing since…well, since I last remember being alive. What’s your experience with this?”
“You mean the other times I talked to…well ghosts?” Wrapping her arms around her bent legs, she rested her chin on her knees.
“Yes.”
“I don’t really recall…well, that’s not true. Remember when I said there were a few nasty souls I crossed paths with?”
“Yes.” Walt mimicked Danielle and wrapped his arms around his bend legs, resting his chin on his knees. He wore the same vintage gray suit—era 1925—that he’d been wearing every other time she’d seen him.
“I had a cat when I was in high school. She’d hiss up a storm and the back on her hair would bristle whenever he—one of the nasty spirits—appeared in my bedroom. Which fortunately, was only two times.”
“If he comes over here again—and judging by the way your friend was responding to him, I’ve a feeling that will be happening fairly soon—encourage him to bring his dog along. Make her welcome. I’ll see if I can find out why he’d lie about his profession. Unfortunately, the dog seemed rather fond of the guy.”
Chapter Eight
Lily was still sleeping when Danielle slipped out of the house the next morning. Before leaving she penned Lily a note telling her she was running a few errands and would hopefully return by noon. Since Danielle had woken to a gray sky, she dressed in denims, tennis shoes and a blue swoop neck sweater before weaving her hair into a side fishtail braid.
Her first stop was the local newspaper office, which opened at eight. She arrived five minutes after they unlocked their doors.
“I was wondering if you have a morgue.” Danielle asked the middle aged woman standing behind the counter.
“You mean for past issues?” the woman asked.
“Yes.”
“Most of that you can find online. I’m afraid we don’t keep any past issues here, but you can go to our website.”
“Oh darn…I don’t have Internet yet.”
“They have some computers at the local library you can use. And if you have a laptop, I’m sure you can grab some free-Wi-Fi. Most of the restaurants have it.”
“Thanks. I guess I’ll have to do that. Do you have a business card with your web address?”
“Sure.” The woman reached across the counter and picked up a business card from a rack and handed it to Danielle. “What years are you looking for?”
“1920s.”
“Oh,” the woman said with a frown. “I’m afraid you won’t find anything online that far back. The original office burned down in the forties, and they lost everything. So far, the only issues they’ve uploaded on the site are from the last ten years or so. But you could try the local museum.”
“The museum?” Danielle asked. “I didn’t know Frederickport had a museum.”
“Yes, it’s not too far from here. Opens at nine, I think. They have a pretty good collection of past issues—including ones from the 1920s—papers that have been donated over the years from subscribers. That would probably be your best bet.”
“By any chance to you have a local phone book?” Danielle asked.
“Sure.” The woman reached under the counter and handed her a phonebook. “You’re welcome to keep it.”
“You don’t need it back?” Danielle flipped through its pages.
“I have an entire stack down here. We give them out all the time.”
After thanking the woman and getting directions to the museum, Danielle headed back to her car. A few minutes later she pulled into the museum parking lot. According to the sign on the front of the building the museum wouldn’t open until nine—just as the woman in the newspaper office had predicted.
Sitting in her car, Danielle glanced at the dashboard clock. She had at least thirty minutes to kill before the museum opened its doors. Pulling out her cellphone and opening the phone book she looked for a local electrician to check out Marlow House’s wiring. After that, she would look for a landscaper to get the yard cleaned up. When the museum finally opened its doors at nine, Danielle felt
a sense of accomplishment. She’d scheduled an appointment with an electrician and a landscaper.
“Welcome to Frederickport Museum. I’m Millie Samson. I’m a docent with the museum,” an elderly woman greeted.
“Hello, nice to meet you.” Danielle glanced around. To her right was a small gift shop. Ahead was a roped off area leading to the main section of the museum. According to the sign there was an admission fee. Danielle dug into her purse.
“Are you visiting Frederickport?” Millie asked, patiently waiting for Danielle to get her money.
“Actually, I just moved here.” Danielle smiled.
“Really?”
“I’ve moved into Marlow House. Do you know where that is?” Danielle pulled her wallet from her purse.
“Marlow House? Why certainly! Oh my, that’s one of the oldest houses in Frederickport. It really should be a historical landmark.”
Danielle handed Millie a five dollar bill. Instead of taking it, Millie said, “You know, you might want to join the museum. If you do that, you can visit any time without paying an admission fee—and you get a discount at the museum gift shop, along with a monthly newsletter.”
“How much is that?”
“A family membership is just twenty-five dollars a year.”
“Well sure, sounds good.” Danielle followed Millie to a counter at the gift shop to fill out a membership form.
“Is there anything particular you’d like to see today or just here for a general visit?” Millie asked after Danielle completed the application form and paid for an annual membership.
“I wanted to look at some of the back issues of the Frederickport Press. The woman at the newspaper office told me you have a collection here.”
“I love looking at those old newspapers. I’ll show you where they are.”
Danielle followed Millie into the main section of the museum, while glancing around at the exhibits. A woman’s portrait captured her attention. Pausing a moment, Danielle looked up at the painting. The subject of the portrait held an uncanny resemblance to the fictitious Gibson Girl, created by illustrator Charles Dana Gibson in the late 1800s.
“She’s beautiful isn’t she?” Millie stood by Danielle, looking up at the portrait.
“Is she supposed to be the Gibson Girl?” Danielle asked.
Millie laughed. “You aren’t the only one who’s mentioned the resemblance. No, she was a very real woman. I believe she was born about the same time the Gibson Girl was popular. The resemblance is purely coincidence.”
“Who was she?”
The portrait’s style bore a remarkable resemblance to the two hanging in Marlow House’s library. Like Angela’s portrait, this woman was elegantly dressed, yet her attire seemed more in fashion with what women wore in the early 1900s as opposed to the 1920s, when hemlines and hairdos shortened.
“Eva Thorndike. She was a movie star back before talkies.”
“Silent films?” Danielle studied the portrait.
“Yes.”
“Why is her portrait here? Was she from Frederickport?”
“Her family had a cottage here—their summer home.”
“Did she keep acting after talkies came out? I’ve heard many actresses weren’t able to make the transition,” Danielle said.
“Unfortunately she died before talkies came out, not long after that portrait was made.”
“God, she must have been young. How did she die?”
“It was her heart—a congenital problem. She suffered with it most of her life, and according to the stories, that was one reason her father didn’t object to her acting—because she loved it so much. Apparently she was quite indulged. Or so the stories go.”
“Did her family have money?”
“Yes. They were wealthy. She was their only daughter.”
“Do you think that necklace she’s wearing is real? Looks like diamonds and emeralds.”
“Ahhh…the Missing Thorndike. Yes, very real.”
“Missing Thorndike?” Danielle glanced over at Millie.
“That’s what they called it. Quite valuable. Disappeared around the time of her death.”
“Well she really was lovely…” Danielle turned from the portrait.
“Looking for anything specific?” Millie asked as she led Danielle further into the museum.
“I’m looking for information on one of the owners of Marlow House—Walt Marlow.”
Millie stopped abruptly and turned to face Danielle. “Oh, the one who committed suicide.”
“Suicide?” No that can’t be. Walt doesn’t seem like someone who would kill himself.
“Oh yes, quite the scandal at the time, from what I’ve been told. You know, his grandfather founded Frederickport. He was a shipbuilder. We have an entire section on him. But the grandson—oh he was a rascal, they say.”
“Before moving here, I tried to find out as much about Frederickport as I could, but never came across your website. And it wasn’t mentioned on the Chamber of Commerce site, which by the way had very little historical information.”
“Oh, the museum doesn’t have a website. At least not any more.”
“Really? That surprises me.”
“Long story. A bit of a falling out between the volunteer who put together a website and the director at the time. That was over a year ago. I believe the museum’s board is working on something, but for now, you won’t find us online.”
Millie led Danielle to a table at the rear of the museum. On it were stacks of oversized books, each containing past issues of the Frederickport Press.
“I can’t believe Walt Marlow killed himself,” Danielle said as she sat at the table.
“Why is that?” Millie sorted through the books looking for the one holding articles on Walt’s death.
“I don’t know…just what I’ve heard about him, I guess.”
“I’ve read all the articles we have on the suicide. He and his wife had recently returned from their honeymoon, which was one reason people were so shocked at the time. Angela Marlow was a beautiful woman and from all accounts he was madly in love with her. But they found him hanging in the attic.”
“The attic?”
“Yes, the attic at Marlow House. Whenever I think of it, I can’t help but feel sorry for George Hemming.”
“George Hemming?” Why does that name sound familiar?
“Yes, the man who lived in the house directly across the street from Marlow House.”
She must mean the house Ian is renting—I don’t think the other houses along that side of the street are that old. George Hemming—yes—now I remember--the one Walt said visited him after Angela left for Portland.
“The Hemmings family has been in Frederickport since its founding. George’s daughter, Marie still lives in town. And his great-grandson. According to the newspaper articles, George got up one morning, looked out his window, and saw Walt Marlow hanging there in the attic window. Chilling. Something like that would give me a heart attack.”
“And Walt Marlow’s wife?” Danielle asked. “Was she at home at the time?”
“Oh no, she was in Portland visiting her brother when it happened.”
A bell rang, signifying someone had walked into the museum.
“Excuse me dear, I think this is the book you want.” Millie slid one of the large books across the table to Danielle, and then dashed to the front of the museum to welcome the new visitor.
Not knowing what month the suicide occurred, Danielle started at the front of the thick book and began thumbing through its pages. She was tempted to ask Millie what month to look for, but she could hear more people coming into the museum.
Letting out a deep sigh, Danielle thumbed through the book, looking for some mention of Walt Marlow’s death. It wasn’t until she reached the last newspaper in the book did she find the first article reporting the suicide.
The newspaper article supported Millie’s story. George Hemming had woken up to the gruesome sight of his neighbor hanging in
the attic window across the street. According to the article, Walt Marlow’s widow had not yet been notified, as she was reportedly visiting her brother in Portland and they hadn’t been able to contact her. Authorities were quick to suggest the death a suicide, noting there was no sign of a break in or struggle.
Danielle closed the book and was about to reach for another, looking for later articles on the story, when her cellphone rang.
“Hi, Lily,” Danielle answered her phone.
“Danielle where are you?” Lily sounded frantic.
“Running errands. What’s wrong?”
“A water pipe broke in the kitchen and water is going everywhere!”
“You need to turn off the water to the house.” Danielle stood up and grabbed her purse, hurriedly heading to the front door of the museum while still talking to Lily on the phone.
When Danielle returned to Marlow House she found Lily in the kitchen with Ian, mopping up water.
“Ian helped me turn off the water. I couldn’t find the shut off,” Lily told Danielle.
“Thanks Ian.” Danielle surveyed the damage. “Sorry you had to deal with this, Lily. Where did you get the mops and buckets?”
“They were at the house I’m renting,” Ian explained.
“I called the plumber. He’s on his way over,” Danielle said.
“I guess I’ll have to skip breakfast,” Lily said. “Kinda hard to make without any water.”
“If the plumber ends up having to tear up the walls I imagine it’ll be a while before we can use the kitchen again. Why don’t you two go grab something to eat while I wait on the plumber? I’ll treat,” Danielle suggested.
“You don’t have to treat,” Ian said. “I will be happy to take Lily to breakfast. I haven’t had anything to eat yet. Why don’t you join us?”
“No…” Danielle flashed him a smile. “I need to wait for the plumber. You two go.”
“Are you sure you want your friend to be alone with him?” Walt asked when he appeared a few seconds after Lily and Ian left the house.
“He seems like a nice enough guy. He did help her get the water turned off and cleaned up this mess. And Lily seems to like him.”