“Katherine’s death was pretty sensational back then. It’s the kind of story someone tells their kids or grandkids, considering it involved someone he had been close to.”
“Sorry I can’t help you, Danielle. I don’t recall my father ever mentioning a Sullivan. In fact, I always got the impression Brianna was virtually alone in the world—no family or close family friends.”
Danielle stepped back from the counter and repositioned her purse on her shoulder, preparing to leave.
“I’m curious, how do you know about this Sullivan?” Ben asked. “That this man ever existed?”
“Aunt Brianna mentioned him once,” Danielle lied.
The next moment a bell rang; someone had just come into the museum.
Ben quickly hopped off the stool. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Certainly.” Danielle watched Ben scurry from around the counter and head to the entry to welcome the new arrivals.
With a sigh, Danielle turned toward the doorway, preparing to leave. Before she took a step, the space in front of her lit up brightly, as if someone had turned on a spotlight. In the midst of the bright space, what appeared to be gold glitter rained down from the ceiling, vanishing before it hit the floor.
Blinking her eyes in disbelief, Danielle silently watched as the image of Eva Thorndike appeared before her—not her entire self, just her face, which floated under the shower of glitter. Eva’s likeness—so eerily similar to that of the fictional Gibson Girl of the late 1800s—looked stoically in Danielle’s direction, her features devoid of expression as it weaved lazily within the now circle of light.
“Eva?” Danielle squeaked.
“Ask Angela,” Eva whispered, her head still floating within the bright glitter circle.
“Ask Angela what?” Danielle asked, regaining her composure.
“Ask Angela about Sullivan.”
Before Danielle had a chance to ask Eva to explain, the spirit dissolved into the surrounding air until she was no more.
“Well, that was helpful,” Danielle grumbled.
Ten minutes later Danielle sat in her car in front of the museum, talking to Lily on the phone.
“I swear, that woman might have died a century ago, but she still has dramatic flair,” Danielle told Lily.
“Are you going to talk to Angela?” Lily asked.
Leaning back in her car’s seat, Danielle gazed out the windshield, holding her cellphone by her ear. “That will mean going to the cemetery. You know how I hate that place.”
“You don’t have to go. After all, this is just to sate your own curiosity. It’s not going to make a difference to anyone if you find out the identity of Brianna’s father.”
“True.” Danielle let out a sigh.
“Oh, my god. I forgot to tell you!” Lily said in a rush. “According to Ian, another safe deposit box was hit.”
“Really?”
“He heard it when he was getting his hair cut,” Lily told her. “The guy was in there at the same time, saying he was going to sue the bank.”
“I’m surprised the chief hasn’t called me.”
“From what I understand, this all happened within the last couple hours.”
“It must be some sort of inside job,” Danielle said.
“That’s what Ian thinks too. I don’t know how it can’t be.”
Sitting up straight, Danielle picked up her car key and slipped it into the ignition. “I’m going to get going.”
“You on your way home?” Lily asked.
Danielle turned on her ignition. “No. I think I’ll stop at the cemetery and have a chat with Walt’s wife.”
Lounging atop the massive headstone, Angela Marlow dangled her bare feet and wiggled her toes, teasing the top leaves of the rosebush growing at the base of her memorial. She didn’t need to fear the flower’s thorns, considering the state of her body—she had none.
Wearing a short, sleeveless, gold lamé dress, its hem fringed, she combed her fingers through her short blonde curls as she moved slightly, adjusting her pose.
“Good afternoon, Angela,” Danielle greeted her.
Startled by Danielle’s sudden appearance, Angela jumped down from the headstone, landing in the middle of the rosebush. Without missing a beat, she stepped away from the headstone and out of the foliage, toward Danielle.
“Where did you come from? Are you dead now?” Angela asked.
“Umm…no. As far as I know, I’m still alive,” Danielle said, suppressing a giggle.
“I just assumed since you appeared out of nowhere, you were like me now.”
Danielle shrugged. “Sorry, I got the impression you were pretty engrossed in…in whatever you were doing up there.” Danielle paused and looked Angela up and down. “Gold lamé?”
“Gold lamé, what?” Angela frowned.
“Your dress. If I’m not mistaken, gold lamé wasn’t a thing back in the twenties.”
Angela shrugged and snapped her fingers. Her outfit changed to a more traditional flapper’s dress. “I’ve discovered one benefit in this state, I can wear whatever I choose.” Angela looked Danielle up and down, frowning at her choice of outfit: black leggings, knee-high boots, and a long pullover cotton blouse. “Death might improve your wardrobe.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” Danielle said dryly.
“Why are you here? Is Walt finally willing to join me?”
“Umm…I don’t think so. But I will be sure and ask him when I get home, in case he has changed his mind.”
Angela narrowed her eyes and glared at Danielle. “Remember, he is my husband. Walt is a married man.”
“Yeah, I know that. But I’m not here because of Walt. I wanted to ask you a question.”
Angela hopped back up on the headstone. Sitting primly, she looked down at Danielle. “Go ahead. I suppose answering questions is better than enduring this never-ending boredom.”
“Do you remember a man named Sean Sullivan?”
Angela stared at Danielle with a blank expression. “Sean Sullivan?” She shook her head. “No.”
“Are you sure? He was a childhood friend of Katherine O’Malley. He used to visit her when she worked at Marlow House.”
Angela frowned and considered the name again. Finally, she broke into a smile. “Sullivan, yes! I remember him now. I asked Katherine once who he was; she said they grew up together. Then I asked if he was the father of her baby, and she seemed quite horrified at the question. I don’t know why, she was the one with a child out of wedlock, not me.”
“Did she tell you who Brianna’s father was?”
Angela laughed. “No. Like I said, she seemed rather flustered at my question.”
Danielle paused a moment and then considered something she hadn’t thought about before. “How about when Katherine was here with you, after her death. Did she ever tell you who the father of her child was?”
“I never asked at that point. I really didn’t care. And Katherine spent most of her time fretting over what had happened to Walt Marlow and worrying about her daughter.”
“Do you have any idea what happened to Sean Sullivan?”
Angela didn’t answer immediately. Instead she stared at Danielle. Finally, she asked, “You mean after I died? Because before that, he was living in Frederickport. I remember seeing him just before I took off for Portland.”
“So all you know is that he was still living in Frederickport when you died.” That’s basically what Walt knows, Danielle thought.
A slow smile curled at Angela’s lips. “I didn’t say that.”
“What do you know?”
“I know Sullivan and I had something in common. Neither one of us wanted Katherine to marry my brother. Of course, I wasn’t alive to voice my objection. Sullivan, unfortunately, got in my brother’s way and had to be dealt with.”
“Are you saying your brother killed Sullivan?”
Angela shook her head. “He didn’t need to resort to that. All he had to do was use his connections t
o get Sullivan out of his way—legally. For Sullivan’s own good, in fact.” Angela laughed.
“What do you mean his own good?”
“I think the place was called Marymoor Sanatorium. You might look there.” Angela yawned. “I’m bored now. If you want more information, you really need to bring Walt with you the next time.” Angela vanished.
Glancing around the now empty cemetery, Danielle shook her head and muttered, “Not like that is going to happen.”
Twenty-Two
Lily was sitting in the kitchen, eating a tuna fish sandwich when Danielle returned home. Spread out on the table before her was that morning’s edition of the Frederickport Press, turned to the page displaying the ad they had placed for the upcoming Fourth of July Barbeque Open House.
“I see our guests’ cars are gone,” Danielle said as she tossed her purse on the kitchen counter.
“They asked me about recommendations for a good lunch restaurant. So I assume that’s where they went.” Lily took a bite of her sandwich.
“Did they go together?” Danielle grabbed some bread to make herself lunch.
“I seriously doubt it. I don’t think Nola and Jeannie have hit it off. Nola and Albert left about thirty minutes ago. Jeannie and Blake just took off.”
“Where’s Walt?” Danielle asked.
“I haven’t seen him.” Lily started to giggle at her own words and then took another bite of her sandwich.
Danielle shook her head and said dryly, “Funny.”
Danielle had the answer to her question a few minutes later when she sat down at the table with Lily to eat the sandwich she had just made. Walt appeared, already sitting in one of the two empty chairs at the table.
“I was going to look for you after I finished this,” Danielle told Walt.
Lily glanced to the seemingly empty chair where Danielle had directed her comment. “Hey, Walt.” She continued to eat her sandwich.
“I’m glad you’re both here. That way I can tell you both about my morning at the same time.”
Danielle then went on to tell about her visit at the museum—most of which Lily already had heard—and then went on to tell about her trip to the cemetery.
“I have to say, Walt, that Eva cracks me up.” Danielle giggled and took a bite of her sandwich.
“Even as a child, before she got into the theatre, she always had a flair.” Walt smiled.
“It’s a shame only people like me can see her,” Danielle said after she swallowed her food.
“Why do you say that?” Lily asked.
“Think about it. She would have so much more fun if she had a broader audience for her paranormal theatrics. As it is, considering the energy she’s using just to travel around and to pull off what she did today, no way could she take that act to the normal, non-ghost-seeing audience.”
Lily nodded. “You have a point.”
“So Angela said Sullivan went to Marymoor?” Walt asked.
“Marymoor Sanatorium. Any idea where that’s at?”
“It’s on the south side of town,” Walt told her.
“No, it’s not. At least not now. There’s no Marymoor Sanatorium in Frederickport,” Danielle told him.
Walt shrugged. “Well, it has been a long time. I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me it’s gone now. But I have to wonder why Sullivan was sent there.”
“I remember my mother telling me how her grandfather was sent to a sanatorium because he had tuberculosis,” Lily told them.
“It wasn’t that kind of sanatorium,” Walt said.
Danielle glanced from Walt to Lily. “Walt said it wasn’t that kind of sanatorium.”
Before Lily or Danielle could ask what kind of sanatorium it was, Walt said, “It was a mental institution.”
“Mental institution?” Danielle said.
“It was a mental institution?” Lily repeated.
“Considering how Sullivan believed he could see leprechauns, I suppose I understand why he got committed,” Walt said.
“Walt, why would they call it a sanatorium if it was a mental institution? I always think of a sanatorium as being a place where sane but sick people are sent.”
“The man who donated the land was named Marymoor. He wanted to be recognized for his donation, but he didn’t like the idea of his name being attached to the word asylum.”
Danielle repeated Walt’s explanation to Lily.
Lily washed the last of her sandwich down with a drink of milk and then said, “I can understand. If it was called Marymoor Insane Asylum or Marymoor Mental Institution, future Marymoor generations would probably be tainted with the false impression one of their ancestors was locked up in the place.”
“So you think Sean was sent there because he told people he could see leprechauns?” Danielle asked.
“I don’t think that in itself would get him committed to Marymoor. From what I recall, the people sent there were violent, which was one reason my grandfather was initially opposed to the idea of locating it in Frederickport.”
“So why did they?” Danielle asked.
Walt shrugged. “I have no idea. I just remember Grandfather reversed his position, and it was built. Of course, this was when I was just a child, so frankly, I was never aware of the details, just the bits of conversations I overheard.”
“So Angela still wants Walt to join her?” Lily asked.
“I think she’s bored,” Danielle told her.
“Did you tell her that even if I wanted to—which I never would—that it would be impossible?” Walt asked.
“Yes, I have. But she doesn’t believe me. I would think she would realize if the powers-that-be are forcing her to be confined to the cemetery as her penance for her involvement in your murder, that the powers-that-be certainly aren’t going to send her you as some playmate,” Danielle said.
“And I certainly have done nothing to deserve that fate.” Walt cringed.
“Walt didn’t do anything wrong, why should he be punished?” Lily said at practically the same time as Walt made his comment.
Danielle laughed.
Both Lily and Walt looked at her.
“Why did you laugh?” they both asked.
Danielle laughed again.
Twenty minutes later the doorbell rang. When Danielle went to answer it, she found Adam and Melony standing on her doorstep.
“Why, hi, you two. What brings you to Marlow House?” Danielle opened the door wider, welcoming them inside.
“Grandma wanted me to give you this,” Adam said as he handed her a checkbook. Both he and Melony now stood in the entry hall.
Danielle took the checkbook as she closed the front door. She opened the checkbook, looked inside, and then frowned. “This is mine.”
“It must have fallen out of your purse when you were at Grandma’s. She found it on the floor in her kitchen.”
“Thanks, Adam. I didn’t even know it was missing. It must have fallen out when I put those letters she gave me in my purse.” She smiled at the couple. “You two have lunch yet?”
“We had lunch with Marie,” Melony explained.
“Did you have dessert?” Danielle asked.
“Dessert? What do you have in mind?” Adam asked with a grin.
“I have a homemade triple-layer chocolate cake in the kitchen, fudge filling with homemade chocolate butter-cream frosting. I also have some vanilla ice cream.” Danielle licked her lips.
“Sold!” Melony said.
Ten minutes later, Melony and Adam sat with Lily and Danielle at the kitchen table, each eating a generous slice of chocolate cake, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Walt stood nearby, leaning against the counter, watching and listening. Out of courtesy for Danielle and her guests, he refrained from smoking.
“Hey, Adam, have you ever heard of Marymoor Sanatorium?” Danielle asked as she prepared to dig the side of her fork into her slice of cake.
“You mean the insane asylum?” Melony asked.
Danielle looked to Melony. “You’
ve heard of it?”
“Well, sure,” Adam said. “It burned down when we were kids.”
“Was anyone killed?” Lily asked.
“No. The asylum closed down years ago, before we were born,” Melony said.
“But it was still pretty damn creepy,” Adam said. “Back then, it made Presley House look cheerful.”
About to take a bite of cake, Melony paused and nodded. “That’s for sure. As a kid you refused to ride your bike down that street.”
“Shut up,” Adam grumbled, taking another bite of cake.
Melony laughed.
“So what’s there now,” Lily asked.
“Empty piece of property,” Adam said. “It’s owned by the city. They’ve never done anything with it. Over the years there were talks about turning it into a park, but I don’t see that happening.”
“Why not?” Danielle asked.
Adam shrugged. “After it burned down, it took over a year to clean it up. It wasn’t that the city didn’t want to haul away the debris, but it seemed whenever a crew showed up to start hauling stuff off, someone would inevitably get hurt.”
“Hurt? How?” Danielle asked.
“Bill’s dad for one. He was working for the city back then, and he broke his leg over there,” Adam said.
“And there was that guy who almost lost his finger. His daughter was in my class; I remember her talking about it. No one got killed, but there was an inordinate number of accidents on the job site and people started talking about the property being cursed,” Melony explained. “I remember my mother talking about how stupid everyone was acting. That the accidents were nothing but gross incompetence of the workers the city hired.”
Adam chortled. “I can see your mom saying that. I always figured after the first couple accidents, the workers started getting jittery and ended up getting hurt because they had psyched themselves out, mostly because the place had been an insane asylum for years. Before it burned down, people loved to talk about how the place was probably haunted.”
“Is that why they haven’t done anything with the property? They think it’s haunted?” Danielle asked.
The Ghost and the Leprechaun Page 14