by Bobbi Holmes
“How did Carla even know he was coming in that night?”
“According to Beverly Klein, her husband came down every Thursday night to go fishing.”
“It’s a safe bet he wasn’t fishing all those Thursdays he was fooling around with Carla. But I see what you mean. Carla probably figured he’d be on the pier that night.”
“Obviously, if she gave him something she made at home, then the cook won’t be of any help. But at least we can see if he had any take-out orders that night. Something that she could have added to.”
Earl Sweeney had been flipping burgers at Pier Café for over ten years. If it were possible to turn back the clock twenty years, his coworkers wouldn’t recognize him. That Earl Sweeny had a wife, son, and a corporate job. But somewhere around his forty-first birthday something had snapped and he dropped out, leaving behind his wife, son, mortgage, and 401(k). He wasn’t especially worried about the family he had left behind. His wife’d had an even better job than he’d had, and was on her way up the corporate ladder.
Now, he rented a room from an elderly woman on the south side of town. There was no way he could afford renting a house or an apartment in Frederickport, not with his wages. Below average height and slightly overweight, with thinning perpetually greasy hair, his fingernails needed a good scrubbing. He spent his money on cigarettes, cheap scotch, and used paperback books. Earl loved to read.
“How can I help you boys?” Earl asked as he took a seat next to Joe.
“We were wondering if you remember Thursday night?” Brian asked.
“You mean the night Steve fell off the pier?”
“Yes.”
“Sure, what do you want to know?” Earl leaned against the table and looked from Joe to Brian.
“Do you remember Steve coming into the restaurant that night?” Joe asked.
“Sure. He came in to get some coffee. Carla waited on him.” Earl lowered his voice and glanced around. “Have to admit, took a lot of nerve for him to come in here.”
“Why do you say that?” Joe asked.
Earl chuckled. “I just figure, when you fool around with a waitress, you switch restaurants after you dump her. Or at least come in when she’s not working.”
Brian arched his brow. “You knew about Carla and Steve?”
“Sure. We never talked about it. But it was pretty obvious, the way he was always slipping his hand up her skirt when he thought no one was looking.” Earl shook his head. “Would love to know what the shareholders at his bank would have thought about that.”
“Did anyone else know?” Joe asked.
Earl shrugged. “The rest of the staff, we kind of joked about it. Of course, Carla denied it. But when she came in here all bitchy a while back and started trashing men, I figured her little love affair was over. And then when she screwed with his coffee that night…” Earl shook his head.
“What do you mean screwed with his coffee?” Brian asked.
“I was getting ready to go on break. It was kinda slow that night. I looked out to see if we had any new customers. I saw Steve ordering something from Carla. Figured I’d wait a minute, see what it was in case I needed to toss a burger on the grill before I grabbed a smoke. But he just ordered coffee.”
“So he didn’t order any food that night?” Joe asked.
Earl shook his head. “No, just coffee.”
“What did you mean screwed with his coffee?” Brian asked again.
“I watched as she filled his cup; then when he wasn’t looking, she grabs a pack of sugar and dumps it in his coffee.”
“I don’t get it? Was she not supposed to put sugar in his coffee?”
“Steve drinks his coffee black. He hates sugar in his coffee.”
Joe glanced at Brian and shrugged.
“Carla’s not a bad gal. But she shouldn’t have been getting in his things when he went to the bathroom.”
“What do you mean?” Brian asked.
“After she gave him the coffee, I went outside to have my smoke. I looked in, and Steve was headed to the bathroom. He’d left his coffee with his fishing gear on the bench up front. While he was in the bathroom, I saw Carla rushing up to the front while looking back to the bathroom, like she didn’t want to get caught. She was carrying something, but I couldn’t tell what it was. She started going through his things. Looked like she took something, but I couldn’t tell what. If it had been any other customer, I would have jumped all over her, but I figured whatever was going on between the two of them was their business.”
Twenty
“Where’s Lily off to?” Walt asked Danielle when he appeared in the dining room on Thursday morning. Danielle sat alone at the table, reading the morning paper and drinking a cup of coffee.
Looking up from the newspaper, Danielle smiled. “Morning, Walt. She’s off to Portland with Ian and Chris, did you forget?”
“Is that today?” Walt took a seat at the table next to Danielle and focused his attention briefly on the newspaper. Seemingly moving on its own volition, the front page slipped from the paper lying before Danielle and slid over to Walt. He picked it up.
“Hey! Paper thief!” She didn’t attempt to snatch it back. Instead, she picked up the remaining pages and skimmed the headlines.
His gaze focused on the front-page article. “I forget, why are they going to Portland today?”
Danielle turned the page she was reading. “They’re going to see Kelly, and Chris is taking his new car back to the dealer for them to fix something. He’s driving, and they’re picking him up while the dealer has his car. So he’ll hang around with Lily, Ian, and Kelly today.”
Lowering the front page slightly, Walt gazed over the top of the page. “Hmmm, he’s going to spend the day with Ian’s sister? Kelly is an attractive young woman. I always thought she would be a good match for Chris.”
Her eyes still on the paper, Danielle flipped the page. “Kelly is still dating Joe. From what I hear, it’s getting serious.”
“Chris has more to offer,” Walt said with a shrug.
“When he comes back, I’ll be sure to tell him you think he’s a great catch.”
Walt set the paper on the table and looked over at Danielle. “Why didn’t you go with them?”
“I have a lunch date with Marie. I don’t dare cancel it. I know she probably has a million questions about Hillary.”
“Are you going to her funeral?”
“Lily and I were discussing that. I’d really like to talk to Antoine Paul’s sister. See what she can tell me about her brother. She lives in Vancouver; that’s where Hillary’s service is. I thought I’d go to the service and then see if I can talk to the sister.”
“What do you hope to learn from her?”
“From what the chief found on Paul, he didn’t have a record. Not even a parking ticket. He was a freelance writer. One reason he didn’t show up on my initial Google search, he used a pen name. I don’t really see how this guy, who has no record, ends up strangling some woman in an alley.”
“Maybe they were lovers? Had a fight, it got out of hand?”
“No kidding, it got out of hand.”
“And you did say they were seen leaving a restaurant together,” Walt reminded her.
“Gosh, if that’s true, do all married people cheat on their spouses?” Danielle shook her head.
“I never did.”
Danielle lowered the paper for a moment and flashed Walt a smile. “I know Melissa was married to a very handsome and wealthy man, but he was much older than her. Maybe she wasn’t happy and foolishly let herself get involved with Paul. But why did he kill her?”
“Are you sure he did?” Walt asked.
“According to the dream hop he showed Hillary, he did. And if he didn’t really strangle her, then why would he show Hillary something like that?”
Walt folded the paper in front of him and pushed it aside. He studied Danielle. “I don’t believe spirits are necessarily more truthful than someone from the living wo
rld. But the difference, we no longer have a reason to lie. In fact, lying can work against us if we’re ready to move on and prefer an easier road ahead.”
“The difference between heaven and hell?”
Walt shrugged. “I’ll leave that to your imagination. It’s not necessary to have all the answers at once. Sometimes that only gets in your way.”
“I just hope his sister can shed some light on his behavior. On one hand, I wish his spirit would just move on and deal with whatever the universe has in store for him, but then I keep thinking of Melissa’s husband and how he deserves answers.”
“If his wife was having an affair, do you think he needs to know after all this time?”
Danielle set the paper on the table and looked at Walt. “Honestly, I’m torn about that. On one hand, he deserves to know what really happened to his wife, yet if she was having an affair, what is the point in finding out now? It’s been over eleven years. That will only open up new wounds.”
“So why get involved?” Walt asked.
“Because I don’t want Antoine Paul’s spirit hanging around Frederickport.”
“You know, Danielle, it’s entirely possible your Mr. Huxley already knows about his wife’s infidelity. After all, she was seen leaving a restaurant with a man.”
“True. But we’re only making an assumption about the infidelity.” Danielle stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“To get ready for my lunch date with Marie.”
Walt glanced at the wall clock. “Isn’t it a little early for that?”
“I have a few errands to run first.”
“Have a nice visit with little Marie.” Walt glanced over to the papers Danielle had been reading. They drifted up, hovering for a moment over the table before floating into Walt’s hands.
When Danielle reached the doorway, she paused a moment and looked back at Walt. “The heater guys are supposed to be here this afternoon. I told them I’d leave a key under the kitchen mat for them.”
Glancing over at Danielle, he asked, “Do you think that’s a good idea, letting them come into the house when you’re not here?”
“Nahh. I have a watch ghost.”
With his eyes back on the paper, he shook his head and called out, “It’s watch spirit, not ghost!”
Danielle was just backing out of her driveway when her phone rang. It was Chris. She stopped the car and took the call.
“Danielle, I have a huge favor to ask you.”
“What do you need?”
“There are some papers I was supposed to drop by at Adam’s office today. I totally forgot about them.”
“You want me to take them to him?” Danielle asked as she sat in her car at the edge of the driveway, the engine still running.
“I’ll owe you big time.”
“You certainly will,” she said with a laugh. “Where are they?”
“They’re sitting on my kitchen counter. You still have my house key, don’t you?”
“Of course, I keep it on my key ring so I can snoop through your house when you go out of town.”
“If that’s true, I’ll try to remember to leave something interesting for you to find.”
Danielle laughed. “Thanks. Glad you called now, I was just leaving the house. You want me to drop them off at his office right now?”
“You’re going to Marie’s for lunch, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Adam said something about having a morning meeting, so I don’t think he’ll be there right now, and I really don’t want the file to be sitting around his office. If you could drop it off after you leave Marie’s, that would be great.”
After picking up the folder at Chris’s house, Danielle turned her car around and headed to town. She spied the pier ahead. On impulse, she pulled into the pier parking lot and parked her car. She hadn’t been down here since Monday, and then, she had only gone into the café and hadn’t really looked around on the pier. She couldn’t help but wonder if Steve’s spirit had returned.
The moment she saw them, Danielle was tempted to turn around and go back to her car. Curiosity had nudged her to look for Steve, but she certainly never imagined she would find both Steve and Hillary sitting side by side together along the stretch of pier he had fallen from. Someone had removed the broken railing, and it had not yet been replaced. Instead, a warning sign had been attached, noting the lack of railing.
With their legs dangling off the side of the pier, Hillary and Steve reminded Danielle a bit of Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher, or at least what the pair might have looked like in their twilight years. Danielle assumed Steve was wearing what he had worn the night he’d fallen off the pier, faded jeans and a blue work shirt, its sleeves pushed toward his elbows. Hillary, who had obviously mastered the spirit outfit change—also wore faded blue jeans, yet her cotton blouse was red and white gingham, and she sported a straw hat.
Contemplating her next plan of action, Danielle debated returning to the car or talking to Steve and Hillary. After a moment, she took her cellphone out of her pocket and walked to the two ghosts.
With her cellphone now to her ear, Danielle glanced around. Hillary and Steve sat chatting amongst themselves, their backs to Danielle, unaware of her presence.
“Hello, Hillary, Steve.”
Both ghosts turned abruptly and faced Danielle.
“Hello, Danielle. Who are you talking to on the phone?” Hillary asked.
“She can see us?” Steve asked.
Hillary nodded. “I told you. You didn’t believe me.”
“I’m pretending to be on the phone,” Danielle explained as she glanced around. On the other side of the pier, a fisherman cast his line out, his back to her.
“Makes sense.” Hillary nodded to the empty place next to her. “Care to join us?”
“Umm, thanks. But I don’t think I want to risk falling off the pier. And according to that sign, they don’t want me to sit there.”
“Yeah, well, that first step is a bitch,” Steve said with a laugh. “I suppose one good thing about being dead is you don’t have to follow signs anymore.”
“So you understand you’re dead?”
Steve looked up to Danielle; by his expression, he obviously thought her question was stupid.
Danielle shrugged. “Many spirits don’t right away.”
Steve looked back to sea. “To be honest, I didn’t right away. After I ran into Hillary the first time, I came back here to get my stuff. Tried like hell to get my things, but my fishing pole kept falling out of my hand. I couldn’t hold onto anything.”
Hillary looked up to Danielle. “After I left you, I came back down here to find Steve. I figured he needed to know the truth.”
“So now that you know, why haven’t you two moved on?”
“We have to go to our funerals,” Steve said. “I’d like to see everyone one more time. My kids, and of course Beverly. She’s going to have a lot on her plate now. Poor thing.”
“You’re going to your funeral too?” Danielle looked at Hillary.
“Yes, are you going?” Hillary smiled cheerfully.
“Umm…yeah, I was planning on it.”
“Good. I’ll drive with you.”
“Umm…you know, that really isn’t necessary. I mean…I think you can just get there on your own.”
“You expect me to walk all the way to Vancouver?”
“No, of course not. But, Hillary, you’re a spirit. It’s like being your own airline.”
“I’d rather drive with you…unless it’s too much trouble.”
Danielle let out a sigh. “Fine. You can drive with us. Are you moving on after the funeral?”
Hillary shook her head. “I told you. I don’t want to see my husbands. Who needs that kind of drama in their life…err…I mean death?”
Still holding the phone next to her ear, Danielle glanced around. “By any chance have you seen Antoine Paul?”
“Yes, but we haven’t talked to him. Gro
uchy spirit, if you ask me.” Hillary shook her head.
“He is definitely a strange guy,” Steve said.
Danielle frowned. “What do you mean?”
“After I left Hillary that first time—after falling off the pier—I ran into the guy when I was walking back here to get my stuff. Of course I couldn’t, I was dead.”
“What did he say that made you think he was strange?”
“He said karma was a bitch. Whatever that was supposed to mean.”
“That is an odd statement,” Danielle said with a frown and then asked, “Steve, are you moving on after your funeral?”
“I suppose so. Nothing really to keep me here.” He glanced at Hillary, who sat to his right. “No offense.”
Hillary looked down at her bare feet and wiggled her toes. “None taken.”
“Umm, maybe I shouldn’t bring this up…but, Steve…the police are looking into your death…they suspect there may be foul play.”
Steve frowned. He glanced up to Danielle. “What are you talking about? I fell off the pier. Serves me right for being careless.”
“From how the chief was talking, they must have found something in your autopsy. He didn’t say what exactly, but he did say your allergic reaction wasn’t caused by you carelessly transferring shellfish from the pier to your food.”
“Why else would I have had the allergic reaction?”
“Hmmm…autopsy, you say?” Hillary glanced from Danielle to Steve. “I believe they check the stomach contents when they do one of those. My guess, the autopsy found seafood in your stomach. Someone must have put fish in your food. Any idea who would want you dead?”
Twenty-One
Bright yellow paint had recently been brushed over the clapboard siding of Marie’s bungalow and fresh white paint over its trim. It was the same color the house had been before the painters had arrived on Monday. Yet now it was clean and fresh, a fitting setting for Marie’s flowers, which were already starting to bloom.
It was still too chilly to have their lunch outside, so Marie had set a table in her sitting room. She used her mother’s Rosenthal Bavarian china luncheon plates. Trimmed in gold—purple pansies, gold and purple roses and other fanciful blossoms and foliage adorned the edges of the octagonal plates. Crystal goblets were already filled with iced tea, each garnished with lemon slices, while the luncheon plates waited for slices of warm quiche, and tiny bowls—from the same set of Bavarian china—sat at the head of each setting, each filled with fresh cut fruit.