The Ghost and the Doppelganger

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “What did you need to talk to me about?” Danielle asked after the two men finished their perfunctory handshake and then each took a step back away from each other.

  “I was wondering if you might be able to ask your friend across the street if he could help us carry the crate in, so we can load the portraits.”

  “The crate?” Danielle frowned.

  “Yes. We can’t very well just toss the portraits in the back of the van.” Clint grinned. “They traveled here in the crate.”

  “Oh. And you have to bring the crate inside to load them?” Danielle asked. “You obviously didn’t have to do that when you unloaded them.”

  “True. But we didn’t have to be quite as careful as we do now. If one got a little dinged up taking it out of the van before they were finished, Jim could have easily fixed it. But now, well, now, we don’t want to risk damaging them; plus, I’m a little concerned the paint might not be completely dry. The crate will protect them.”

  “I’m afraid Ian’s not home. He and Lily went out to dinner with his sister and her boyfriend. I don’t expect them back for a couple of hours.”

  “I can help,” MacDonald offered.

  Clint looked at MacDonald. “You can?”

  “Sure. No problem.” The chief grinned.

  Danielle and Stephanie followed MacDonald, Clint, and Macbeth outside to where Clint had parked his van. The two women stood on the sidewalk and watched as the men maneuvered the large wooden crate out of the back of the vehicle.

  “Stephanie, can you grab a corner?” Clint called out. She quickly scurried over and grabbed hold of one corner.

  And I call myself a feminist, Danielle told herself when she didn’t offer to lend a hand. But then she realized they would need someone to open the front door, so she quickly jogged up the front walkway while they carried the crate up to the house.

  “It would be much easier if I simply brought it in,” Walt said when he appeared next to Danielle. The two stood by the open doorway, watching them slowly approach the house with the cumbersome crate.

  In response to Danielle’s questioning frown, Walt said, “Marie’s in the library. I wanted to see what you were up to.”

  Once they moved the crate inside the entry hall, Danielle closed the door. She and Walt watched as the four people slowly moved the crate down the hallway. Once in the library, they set it in the middle of the room.

  When Stephanie let go of her corner of the wooden crate, she let out a curse and grabbed her hand. “Darn it, Clint, I got a splinter from that stupid crate!”

  Clint grabbed her hand and looked at it. “You’re going to need tweezers to get it out.”

  “I’ve got a pair,” she grumbled, snatching her hand from him and starting toward the door. Before leaving the library, she shouted, “You’ll have to get someone else to help load those portraits!”

  Danielle wondered briefly if Stephanie had faked the splinter, thus giving Clint and Macbeth an excuse to load the portraits and make the switch when she and the chief were no longer around. But then Clint asked the chief something that made her wonder if it all really had just been a coincidence.

  “Any chance you could stick around for a minute and help us load the portraits? It takes three people, and they’re kind of heavy.”

  Surprised by Clint’s request, MacDonald stood there a moment and then said, “Why, sure.”

  Danielle stood with Marie and Walt by the bookshelves, silently watching as the three men carefully loaded the two reproductions into the crate. It was a process that required at least three strong people. Considering Stephanie’s petite frame, Danielle didn’t see how she could have helped, even if she hadn’t gotten a splinter in her hand.

  “Does this mean your cousin isn’t an art thief?” Marie asked.

  Walt shrugged. “Unless he swapped those paintings when I wasn’t looking.”

  Momentarily panicked, Danielle looked to Walt.

  He chuckled. “Don’t worry, Danielle, those are the reproductions they’re loading into the crate. No one has been in the library without either Marie or myself in here.”

  With a sigh of relief, Danielle looked back to the crate. When the men were finished loading the artwork, Clint shut the crate’s lid. He then locked it.

  “You’re locking it?” Danielle hadn’t noticed the lock before.

  “Not that I’m worried about someone stealing them on the way home,” Clint said with a chuckle. “It’s more for a precaution if we have an accident. I don’t want the crate to fly open.”

  “We’re not going to have an accident. I’m driving,” Stephanie said when she walked into the room the next minute.

  Clint glanced to her right hand. “Did you get it out?”

  “Yes. And don’t lose that key,” Stephanie told him. “It’s the only one.”

  Clint shoved the key in his pocket. “Have more faith in me. I’m not going to lose the key.”

  “I can help you load the crate into the van,” MacDonald offered.

  Clint looked at the crate a moment, as if considering. Finally, he shook his head. “No. I appreciate the offer. But I don’t want to leave it in the car all night. With my luck, someone might steal my van while we’re sleeping, and then the last two weeks would be for nothing.”

  “And if they are stolen, at least I got paid already,” Macbeth said with a laugh.

  “How are you going to get the crate in the car with just the two of you?” MacDonald asked.

  “We’ll figure out something. Maybe I can get Danielle’s friend to help me in the morning. But what I would like to do is to take you all out to dinner.”

  “Dinner?” Danielle asked.

  “Yes. I’d like to thank you for letting me do this. And I would like to thank your friend here for helping us load the portraits in the crate. To be honest, loading them in the crate just the right way so they don’t get damaged is really the difficult part. Getting the crate back into the car shouldn’t be a problem for us. Please accept my offer; let me take you both out to dinner. I’d like to take you both to Pearl Cove,” Clint told them.

  Under other circumstances, the chief might have politely declined the offer. He needed to get home to his sons. But he also wanted to keep an eye on Clint Marlow and make sure he left town without taking the original portraits with him. After accepting the dinner offer, he agreed to meet them at Pearl Cove in an hour, after he went home, changed his clothes, and took his boys to his sister’s house.

  “You think they’re going to try to make the switch after you leave, and I’m up getting ready for dinner?” Danielle asked the chief as she walked him to the car.

  “I honestly don’t see how that would be possible. Those canvases are heavy—and cumbersome. I don’t see how they could remove the originals from their frames and make the switch. You could walk in on them at any time, and that would be dangerous for you.”

  “Don’t worry, Walt and Marie are keeping an eye on the paintings while I’m upstairs. If they start to make the switch, Marie will let me know, and I’ll call you. You can get your officers over here and catch them in the act.”

  “My guess, if they are planning a switch, they intend to do it tonight when you’re sleeping. It’ll give them more time. They’ll need all three of them, and even that will not be easy considering the weight of the canvases. Walt or Marie hasn’t heard them say anything, what their plans are?”

  Danielle shrugged. “Clint and Stephanie haven’t really had much to do with Macbeth this week. He just does his thing, and they do theirs. Most of the time, Clint and Stephanie have been off somewhere. Marie tried eavesdropping on them a few times, but she said all they really talked about was some trip they were planning, I assume for a honeymoon. Nothing about the portraits.”

  “Be careful, Danielle.”

  She smiled. “Don’t worry. I have Walt.”

  In her bedroom, Danielle glanced at her watch. It was time for her to go downstairs and leave for Pearl Cove. Just as she was about
to open her bedroom door, Marie appeared in her room.

  “Are you leaving now?” Marie asked.

  “I assume they haven’t messed with Walt’s portraits?” Danielle asked in a whisper.

  “No. No one has been back in the library. Walt wanted me to check on you. See when you were leaving.”

  “Now, I guess.” Danielle glanced at her watch again. “I think the chief might have been right. If they plan to switch the paintings, they’re doing it tonight when I’m sleeping.”

  As it was arranged, the chief picked up Danielle for dinner, while Clint, Stephanie, and Macbeth would be driving to the restaurant in the van.

  Danielle and the chief arrived at the restaurant first. They were already seated at a table when Clint and Stephanie arrived.

  “Where’s Jim?” Danielle asked as the couple joined her and the chief at the table.

  “He told us he wasn’t hungry. Said he wanted to go to bed since he plans to get up early in the morning and take off,” Clint explained.

  “Yeah, right.” Stephanie laughed. “Is he really going to get up early? I don’t think I ever saw him in the mornings while we were here. I’m just glad he actually finished the paintings.”

  “He did.” Clint smiled. He stood up briefly and then pulled the key to the crate from his pocket. He handed it to Stephanie. “Here. Put this in your purse so I don’t lose it.”

  “Now you listen to me.” Stephanie laughed.

  Danielle and the chief exchanged glances.

  After the server arrived at the table and took their drink orders, Stephanie and Clint excused themselves to go to the restroom.

  “If Macbeth doesn’t have the key, then he can’t switch the portraits while we’re at dinner—even if he could manage it by himself,” Danielle said.

  “I imagine he could get the lock open someway. That would be easy. Making the switch himself would be the difficult part.”

  “Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong. Perhaps Clint doesn’t intend to steal the portraits—but maybe Macbeth intends to grab the originals and take them while we’re all at dinner.”

  The chief considered the possibility a moment and then shook his head. “No. Why would he spend the last two weeks painting when he could have just grabbed the paintings any time during the last couple of weeks? Plus, everyone would know he took them. No. They’re either planning to make the switch tonight while you’re sleeping, or they really don’t know about Bonnet.”

  Seventeen

  I would like to wallop my grandson for emailing that annoying cousin of yours,” Marie told Walt. They sat together in the library playing a game of checkers. Since Marie was unable to move the game pieces, Walt had to do it for her.

  “They leave tomorrow. Maybe my cousin isn’t a thief after all.”

  Walt started to move one of the pieces when Marie gasped, “Don’t move it!”

  Walt frowned. “It’s my checker, why can’t I move it?”

  “We have company,” Marie whispered.

  Walt turned to the open doorway. Macbeth was just walking into the room.

  “You don’t have to whisper, Marie. He can’t hear us,” Walt reminded her.

  “I thought he was going to the restaurant with them.”

  Walt shrugged. “That’s what I thought too. When Danielle left with the chief, I heard Clint say the three of them were driving together.”

  “You don’t think he stayed so he could switch the paintings?”

  “There’s no way he could do that alone.”

  They watched as Macbeth approached the framed portraits. He reached out and reverently caressed the frame of Angela’s painting.

  “You’re probably right. He isn’t a very large man. I can’t see him lifting one of those canvases by himself,” Marie noted.

  “The way he’s staring at that painting, he reminds me of a man looking at his lover.”

  “Are you jealous? It’s your wife’s painting he seems to be lost in.” Marie chuckled.

  “Not particularly.” Walt sighed.

  “Do you think he knows what they’re really worth?” Marie asked.

  “If he does, I don’t think he’ll leave here without trying to take them, considering his history.”

  Macbeth pulled a cellphone out of his pocket, and just as he started to make a call, he glanced over to the small table holding the checkerboard. He frowned. “I could swear those checkers were stacked up,” he muttered. With a shake of his head, he turned from the table and finished dialing his number.

  “Oh dear, I do believe he noticed the checkers had been moved,” Marie said.

  “He doesn’t seem overly concerned.” Walt took a puff off his cigar and continued to watch Macbeth.

  Whomever the man was calling had obviously just answered his phone, considering Macbeth’s next words. “Okay, I’m ready for you. But you’re going to have to park down the street and walk here. I don’t want the neighbors to notice a car parked in front of the house. I’ll unlock the front door. Just come in, but be careful the people across the street don’t see you. They’re friends of the owner. They aren’t home right now, but they could be back at any time, and I don’t want them to see you when they get back.”

  Macbeth ended the phone call, shoved the cellphone in his pocket, and then walked to the door.

  “Does this mean they’re coming after the paintings?” Marie gasped.

  “It appears so.”

  Both Walt and Marie followed Macbeth. He walked down the hallway to the front door. After he unlocked it, he headed back to the library.

  “What are you going to do?” Marie asked.

  “For the moment, I’m just going to watch. I’d like to know if my cousin is part of this, or if Macbeth is working on his own.”

  They watched as he removed a key from his pocket and unlocked the crate.

  “It seems my cousin was wrong, and he didn’t have the only key—or else he gave Macbeth the key before he left.”

  “I don’t see how that’s possible. Right after they packed the crate, Macbeth went to his bedroom, and the next time Clint said anything to him was when he told him they were leaving for dinner. In fact, Macbeth didn’t even answer his door for Clint. Clint just knocked, said they were leaving, and Macbeth shouted something back to him. There was never an opportunity for Clint to give him the key. I would have seen.”

  Walt shrugged. “I wonder who ordered the crate? Was it custom made for this job? I would assume that would be something Macbeth would do; he’s the expert. He would know what was needed to store paintings that size without damaging them. If he’s the one that handled that, then I would assume he could have had an extra key made without my cousin’s knowledge.”

  After opening the crate, Macbeth walked back to his bedroom. Walt and Marie followed him. In the bedroom Macbeth retrieved a small suitcase.

  “What’s in the suitcase?” Marie asked.

  “I suppose we’ll find out in a minute.”

  Suitcase in hand, Macbeth returned to the library, two spirits trailing behind him. He opened the suitcase, revealing a number of tools.

  Looking into the open suitcase, Marie frowned. “What’s he going to do with those?”

  “My guess, he needs them to remove my paintings from their frames.” Walt puffed his cigar.

  “Aren’t you going to do something?”

  “Not right now. We have plenty of time.”

  Aside from unlocking the crate and retrieving a suitcase of tools, Macbeth made no move to tamper with the portraits. He sat on the sofa and glanced at his watch, obviously waiting for whoever he had called to arrive.

  “Maybe you should send Edward or Danielle one of those text messages,” Marie suggested. “Let them know what’s going on.”

  Walt glanced over to the computer. “I don’t think that will be possible at the moment. He might overlook the checker game, yet I suspect if I turn on the computer right now, he might run out of the house.”

  “But wouldn’t th
at be a good thing?”

  Walt shook his head. “No. I’d rather this play out so we’ll know what they’re up to—and who’s involved. I’m rather curious to see who he’s waiting for.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Walt and Marie heard voices calling out from the entry hall. “Hey, Mac, you here?”

  Macbeth stood up from the sofa and walked to the open doorway. “Down here!”

  “Mac?” Walt arched his brows. “He doesn’t go by Macbeth?”

  “I imagine he was teased mercilessly as a child for that name.”

  “Which led him to his life of crime?” Walt snickered.

  “Oh my!” Marie gasped when three large men walked into the library. They all wore black—black turtlenecks, black slacks, and black ski hats.

  Now sitting on the sofa’s arm, absently fiddling with his cigar, Walt studied the men. “I suppose they’re wearing black to blend in with the night, but if any car was to drive up the street and their headlights landed on these palookas, someone is going to call the cops.” Walt chuckled.

  “This doesn’t look good. We need to do something!” Marie urged.

  Walt arched his brow at Marie, flashing her a lopsided grin. “We? You can’t even move your own checker.”

  “You know what I mean,” she huffed.

  “Let’s get this done,” Macbeth said.

  “Settle down, Marie, and enjoy the show. Don’t worry. I won’t let them get out of here. Even if that means I have to levitate them to the ceiling until the chief and Danielle get home.”

  “You can do that?”

  He shrugged. “Just ask Max.”

  With a sigh born of resignation, Marie took a seat on the sofa and watched with Walt.

  Under Macbeth’s detailed instructions and guidance, the men used the tools to remove Walt’s portraits from the frames, careful not to destroy the material concealing the back of the canvases. They removed the reproductions from the crate and then replaced them with the originals.

  “Walt, I—” Marie began.

  “Not now,” Walt cut her off. “I need to see exactly how they’re doing this.” He tossed his cigar into the air and it vanished. “I need to concentrate.”