“What worked out?”
“I knew it was too good to be true,” Angela grumbled. She turned from Danielle and began walking toward her grave.
“Aren’t you even going to ask me about Walt?” Danielle followed Angela. “You normally do. It’s typically the first thing you ask about.”
“If it worked out for Walt, I wouldn’t be here, would I?” The clothes Angela wore morphed into a different dress, one more casual yet typical of her era, with a fringed hem. She sat atop her headstone.
“You aren’t making any sense.”
Angela shrugged. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to ask you about the artist who painted your portraits.”
“Why?”
“I…I’d just like to find out more about him. Walt doesn’t remember anything about him, and Eva only remembers his name was Jacque, but went by Johnny.”
“That’s because of his middle name, Jehan, spelled J-E-H-A-N. He told me that was French for John.”
“Do you remember his full name?”
Angela shrugged. “Jacque Jehan Bonnet, spelled like a hair bonnet.” Angela laughed. “That’s how I remember, I used to call him Johnny Hair Bonnet.”
“I can’t imagine he liked that.”
Angela giggled. “Are you serious? He was quite a flirt. If I wasn’t marrying Walt, I might have been tempted, but I wasn’t about to get involved with a starving artist, no matter how handsome he was.”
“What do you know about him?”
“I didn’t know him well, but I rather envied him, his freedom and spirit of adventure. He had been traveling through the States, working mostly with theater groups, painting an occasional portrait to make a little extra money. One of my girlfriends introduced him to me when we were at the theater. He had just come back to town and wanted to look at Eva’s portrait. He had heard she’d died.” Angela shrugged again.
“How did you happen to hire him?”
“He mentioned he was only in town for a short time. Said he planned to go back to France. He hadn’t been back in a number of years, said he wanted to see his family, but first he needed to raise a little extra money. Wanted to know if we knew anyone interested in having a portrait done. And I thought, why not? I needed to get Walt a wedding gift, and there was some irony in having Eva’s artist paint them. I couldn’t resist.”
“Did you ever hear what happened to him?”
“No. I assume he went back to France. But I didn’t see him again after he finished the portraits, and as you know, I died not long after Walt and I married.”
“Is there anything else you know about the artist?”
Angela considered the question a moment and then shook her head. “No. Why?”
“It’s kind of a long story.”
“You don’t have to tell me. To be honest, I don’t really care.” Angela let out a sigh and uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, shifting her position slightly on the headstone. “I’m feeling a little depressed. When I saw you, I thought…well, it doesn’t matter.”
“What did you think?” Danielle asked. “What did you expect me to tell you?”
“That I was free to go. That I could finally move on. That Walt’s destiny had been set back on course. I should have known it was foolish to listen to rumors. Especially here.”
“Was it something another spirit told you?” Danielle asked.
Angela looked down at Danielle, silently studying her for a moment. “I really shouldn’t be discussing this with you. It will just get me in more trouble. If I ever want to leave this place, I have to follow their rules.”
“Whose rules?” Danielle asked.
“The Universe, of course.” Angela vanished.
Danielle glanced around. There was no sign of Angela. She walked to a nearby bench, sat down, and then pulled her cellphone from her purse and dialed Ian.
When Ian answered her call, she said, “Hi. I have the artist’s name for you.”
“Angela remembered?” Ian asked.
“Yes. It’s Jacque Jehan Bonnet.” Danielle then spelt out the middle and last names. “According to Angela, he was planning to go back to France after he finished her portraits. Of course, she died not long after that and never really knew for sure if he left or not.”
“I’ll see if I can find out anything about him. Thanks, Danielle. You’re a regular Nancy Drew—if Nancy Drew were a medium.”
Just as Danielle ended her phone call and was about to slip the cellphone back in her purse, she heard Angela call out excitedly.
“Walt! You came! You really came! Does this mean I can leave now? That I’m free?” Angela asked.
Danielle looked up to find Clint and Stephanie walking in her direction.
The moment Clint recognized Danielle, he came to an abrupt stop. “Danielle, what are you doing here?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Danielle stood up yet found it difficult to focus on what he was saying, considering the shouting coming from Angela.
Twelve
Walt, is that why you’re here?” Angela squealed, unable to contain her excitement. “Are you here to tell me I can go now?”
Clint stared at Danielle. “Do you always hang out at the cemetery on Saturday mornings?”
“Walt, please don’t ignore me!” Angela said impatiently. “I know you were angry with me, but now…” Angela frowned and looked from Walt to the woman by his side. They held hands.
“A dear friend recently died. I like to visit her grave.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Danielle’s dear friend Marie had recently died, and she was buried at this cemetery. Yet, the fact was, Danielle hadn’t visited her grave since the funeral. Why should she? Marie’s spirit was a frequent visitor to Marlow House.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Clint said politely.
“Walt, why are you holding that woman’s hand? What is she to you?” Angela demanded. “This is not how it’s supposed to work out. I don’t understand. Stop ignoring me!”
“Clint Marlow, are you here to visit your cousin’s grave? Walt Marlow, who looks exactly like you?” Danielle said loud and clear for Angela’s benefit.
Stephanie and Clint exchanged glances, and Danielle could only imagine what they were thinking: That Danielle Boatman is an odd one.
“Yes. We. Are. Here. To. See. Walt. Marlow’s. Grave.” Clint chuckled.
“Walt’s cousin?” Angela gasped. “He looks just like him!”
Stephanie tugged gently on Clint’s hand, a silent reprimand. “Yes, Danielle, that’s why we’re here. Clint wants to visit his family’s graves—and take pictures. He’s putting together a family history scrapbook.”
“He is?” Danielle frowned.
“Oh yes!” Stephanie said excitedly while Clint stood mutely by her side, letting her speak. “I know Clint likes to play the tough guy, that family doesn’t mean anything to him. But you don’t know how excited he was when he received that link to your business website and saw his cousin’s portrait!”
“Well, they do look exactly alike. I can understand why that would pique his interest.” Danielle looked to Clint, who smiled sheepishly.
“It’s not just the portraits,” Stephanie insisted. “You see, Clint really doesn’t have any family. His father died a few years ago, and he lost his mother when he was just a child. He doesn’t have any cousins or family. No one who can really tell him more about his family’s history.”
“I…I can relate,” Danielle told her.
Stephanie frowned. “You can?”
Danielle nodded. “Yes. My cousin died over a year ago. And she was really the only family I had left. I don’t have anyone now.”
“Then you can understand how excited Clint was to discover this branch of his family. It gives him the opportunity to learn more about his family history, since there’s no one left who can tell him anything.”
“In the email, he said he wasn’t interested in family history.”
Squeezing Clint’s hand, Steph
anie looked to him and smiled lovingly. “That’s just Clint trying to hide his feelings. He’s really a marshmallow.”
“Yeah…I’m a marshmallow,” Clint grumbled, smiling weakly at Danielle.
“If you want, I can show you where the family crypt is,” Danielle offered.
“They have a crypt?” Stephanie asked excitedly.
“Yes. Walt’s not buried in it, but his parents are and his grandparents,” Danielle explained.
“I can’t believe how much he looks like Walt,” Angela stammered. “I wonder if this has something to do with that other thing.”
Danielle glanced at Angela, wondering what that other thing was, yet unable to ask.
“Please take us there!” Stephanie said.
“Okay, but we’ll be going right by Angela’s and Walt’s graves. We can stop there first,” Danielle offered.
“Angela?” Stephanie frowned.
“I’m Angela!”
“Angela was Walt’s wife. The one in the portrait,” Danielle told her.
“Oh, the gold digger who killed my cousin,” Clint said.
Angela gasped. “I did not kill him! I tried to stop his murder!”
“It’s believed Angela’s brother killed Walt. We don’t really know for sure if Angela was involved or not,” Danielle lied. “She was killed the day before him by a hit-and-run driver in Portland.”
“I bet her brother killed her too,” Clint said.
“My brother would never hurt me!” Angela insisted. “I know he was wrong, and he has paid for his sins, we all have. But he would never hurt me; he loved me!”
“Then she really could not have been responsible for Walt’s murder,” Stephanie said. “I might feel a little uncomfortable hanging her portrait in my house if I thought she had killed her poor husband.”
“What is she talking about?” Angela asked.
Danielle showed the couple first to Walt’s and Angela’s graves. Stephanie handed her phone to Clint.
“No, babe, you take the pictures. You take better pictures than I do.” Clint smiled at Stephanie.
After Stephanie took a number of photographs of each grave site, Danielle showed them to the family crypt.
“That’s kind of cool looking,” Stephanie murmured while taking photographs of the crypt’s perimeter.
“An interesting story about the crypt. Last year, a local woman died and her uncle hid her body in it,” Danielle told them.
Stephanie stopped taking pictures and turned to Danielle. “He murdered his niece?”
Danielle shook her head. “No. She died from natural causes.”
“Then why would he hide the body?” Stephanie asked.
“It had to do with the estate. As long as she was believed to be alive, he controlled their family business. But once she died, he believed her share was going to a nonprofit organization and out of his control.”
“Who found the body?” Stephanie asked.
Danielle didn’t answer immediately. Finally, she said, “I did.”
“Seriously?” Stephanie asked.
Danielle nodded. “Long story. Basically, I was dog sitting for my neighbor, the dog got out, I found her here, and while here I noticed the crypt seemed to be open.” It wasn’t exactly what had happened, but close enough, Danielle thought.
“That’s just creepy.” Stephanie shivered.
“Yes, it was,” Danielle agreed.
“I’m bored,” Angela said before disappearing.
Stephanie snapped a few more photographs while Danielle and Clint watched silently. Finally, Stephanie turned to Danielle and said, “I still find it odd how much Clint looks like his distant cousin. Do you have any idea how closely related they are?”
“If Clint is interested in his family history, he might want to get an account at Ancestry.com. I found some information there on the Marlow family,” Danielle suggested.
“Oh yes! I’m sure he’ll want to do that. Won’t you, Clint?”
Clint smiled at Stephanie. “Yes, love. I will do that as soon as we get back to California.”
Stephanie grinned at Clint.
“One thing that may explain why Walt and Clint look so much alike, Walt’s great-grandparents—the ones who were the first in his line to come to the US were twins—and their twins married each other. Double cousins of identical twins. Clint is a direct descendant of the brother of Walt’s great-grandfather and of the sister of Walt’s great-grandmother. I always heard that double cousins of twins were genetically siblings. Not sure that’s really true.” Danielle shrugged.
“So that’s why they look so much alike?” Stephanie asked.
“I’m sure that’s a contributing factor,” Danielle said.
“This is very interesting,” Clint said. “But I’m sure we’re keeping Danielle.”
Danielle glanced at her watch. “I probably should get going. Plus, I imagine you’d like some privacy here.”
“I didn’t think she was ever going to leave,” Clint said after Danielle was out of earshot.
“You have to admit it was a little interesting. Especially about the body hidden in your family crypt.” Stephanie held Clint’s hand as they walked slowly down the path away from the crypt and toward Walt’s and Angela’s grave sites. Beyond the grave sites was the parking lot.
“First of all, I already knew about all that. I read about it online when I was looking up information on Marlow House after that guy sent me the link.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Stephanie asked.
Clint shrugged. “It didn’t seem important. Hell, if I told you about all the insane things I read on the internet, we wouldn’t have time to talk about anything else.”
“I know, but this was about your family crypt.”
“Not my family crypt. The crypt of some people who I happen to share a little DNA with. They are nothing to me. Walt Marlow is nothing to me.”
“But you have to admit, Walt Marlow was good looking.” Stephanie giggled and leaned up to kiss Clint’s cheek.
Clint stopped abruptly, turned to Stephanie, and pulled her into his arms. The two kissed and then Clint pulled away slightly, still holding Stephanie in his arms; he gazed into her eyes. “In a few weeks you’ll be my family. There is only one thing in this world that truly matters to me, and that’s you, Stephanie. You have no idea how much I love you.”
Smiling up at Clint, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips. When she pulled away, she whispered, “The feeling is mutual.”
“There is one good thing about running into Danielle today.” Clint grinned at Stephanie.
“What’s that?”
“When we go back to Marlow House, we don’t have to show her all the pictures we took and have to pretend I give a crap about Marlow family history.”
Stephanie grinned. “True. So why don’t we do something fun today?”
“Fun like what?”
“I don’t know. Take a drive along the ocean. Play tourists. After all, this will probably be the last time we’re ever on the Oregon coast.”
“Thank God for that!” Clint kissed her again.
“So what did you find out?” Walt asked when Danielle returned to Marlow House on Saturday.
Danielle walked into the parlor with him and shut the door. She didn’t need Joanne or Macbeth hearing her supposedly talking to herself.
“I found out who the artist was, but I don’t think it’s important now.”
“Why do you say that?”
Danielle tossed her purse on the small desk and sat down on the sofa. She kicked her shoes off and propped her feet on the coffee table. “It turns out your cousin is a closet genealogist.”
“A what?” Walt sat down in a chair facing Danielle, a lit cigar in his hand.
“It turns out Clint really is interested in family history. I ran into him and Stephanie down at the cemetery. They were there to take pictures of family headstones.”
Walt cringed. “That’s rather gruesome.”
Danielle chuckled. “Not really. People into family history typically visit cemeteries and take pictures of headstones. If you think about it, there can be a lot of useful information found on a headstone—unless the deceased family was cheap.”
“Cheap? What do you mean?”
“I had a friend who was into genealogy. She took a trip back East to visit a cemetery where some of her ancestors had been buried. She was rather excited because she was having a hard time finding some birth and death dates. But when she got there, the headstones just had names. No dates.”
Walt nodded. “Ahh, the extra cost for a stone cutter.”
“Exactly. She was pretty annoyed at her ancestors.” Danielle chuckled.
“Back to Clint—why are you no longer interested in the artist?”
“It’s not that I’m no longer interested. I’m just not interested for the same reason. I don’t think there is anything nefarious going on in spite of the fact Macbeth is using an alias. Clint obviously cares more about his family history than I thought, and I now understand why he would want a copy of those portraits. If he didn’t care about his family history, I couldn’t understand why he would bother having Angela’s portrait reproduced. I could understand why he wanted yours, because of the resemblance.”
“Out of curiosity, what did Angela tell you about the artist who painted our portraits?”
Danielle recounted her conversation with Angela. “I already called Ian and gave him the artist’s name. I was going to do a Google search on him myself, but I don’t see the point now. But I’ll let Ian look; he might find something interesting to give the museum. According to him, the museum wanted to have a bio on the artist, but never knew his name.”
“Did Angela see my cousin?”
“Ahh yes! At first she thought he was you.” Danielle paused a moment and frowned. “Angela also said some strange things when I was there. She acted like I knew something that was going to let her move on.”
“Knew something like what?”
Danielle considered the question a moment and then shrugged. “I have no idea. It was really odd.”
The Ghost and the Doppelganger Page 8