Ocean Blues

by Glen Ebisch

  Ashley made her way downstairs and into the front parlor. The three other residents were already there sitting in a small conversational grouping at one end of the large room. A table along the wall held a variety of small sandwiches, pastries, and cookies. There was also a pot of tea and a small coffee urn. Although still pretty full from lunch, Ashley put a few items on a plate and poured herself a cup of tea. She then went over and sat down with the others. She saw a young blond woman step into the parlor to see how everything was going. Ashley assumed that this was Tracy, the granddaughter.

  “So we have a new member of our little group,” said the man who introduced himself as Joe Harmon. He looked to be in his sixties and had a ring of gray hair around a bald center. The tall thin blond woman next to him, who appeared to be about ten years younger, said she was Leslie Harmon, his wife.

  “And I’m Denise Lambson,” said a heavy-set woman of about thirty.

  “Nice to meet you all,” Ashley said, sounding chirpy. She wondered if the blond wig had mysterious powers to make her more sociable.

  “Have you been informed of the various . . . incidents that have happened around here lately?” asked Leslie Harmon.

  “Yes. Sylvia let me know when I booked in case I wanted to change my mind.”

  “And it didn’t bother you?” Denise asked.

  Ashley shook her head and smiled confidently. “I’ve generally found that stories about ghosts are greatly exaggerated. What it usually boils down to are creaking beams and a branch rubbing on a window.”

  “Not in this case,” Denise said. “I was definitely pushed by something, and it was no branch on a window. And you saw the ghost of the sea captain, and he knocked on your door,” she said to Leslie Harmon.

  “That’s true,” Leslie said. “I didn’t get a very clear look at him, but he was dressed in a uniform.”

  “And ask Tracy, Sylvia’s granddaughter. She got pushed into the linen closet,” Denise continued.

  Ashley nodded. “So why are all of you still here.”

  Joe Harmon cleared this throat. “Because we only have three days to go on our reservation, and we feel sorry for Sylvia. She’s been refusing new bookings until this gets cleared up because she’s afraid of someone being seriously hurt.”

  “I’m surprised she didn’t refuse your reservation,” Denise said.

  “She tried to,” Ashley lied. “But I was pretty insistent. I’ve been working very hard recently, and really need a break. A friend of mine had been here a year ago, and highly recommended this place as somewhere to chill out.”

  “What sort of work do you do?” Leslie Harmon asked.

  “IT for a large corporation in Philadelphia,” Ashley said, keeping it vague.

  “Have you ever been to the Shore Side before?” asked Leslie.

  Ashley said she hadn’t, and that led to a general discussion in which everyone suggested places and things that she just had to see. After fifteen minutes of being polite, Ashley slipped away with the excuse that she was tired after her long trip. When she got to her room, she decided that a nap might actually not be a bad idea, since she wanted to be alert for the evening. She took off her dress and settled down on the soft bed and, before she realized it, was asleep.

  She woke up suddenly, panicked at not knowing where she was. The room had gotten much darker since she had gone to sleep, and she lay there for a moment staring into the shadowy corners wondering if this undercover operation had been such a good idea. After a moment she calmed down, and decided that some supper would soon get her spirits back up again. She changed into jeans and a shirt and went out to a local small grocery to pick up a salad and something to drink. She went to a store she frequently used and was waited on by a familiar sales clerk. When the woman glanced at her with no recognition, Ashley smiled to herself at how a wig and some new clothes had turned her into a different person. For an exhilarating moment, she felt free, as though her past had dropped from her shoulders and anything was possible.

  She went back to her room and ate her supper. She sat in her room and read for a couple of hours until it was nearly nine-thirty. Then she put on her microphone, took her book, and went down to the parlor.

  Being alone in the parlor, she put her mouth near the microphone and said, “I’m sitting in the parlor all by myself, reading a Stephen King book, and hoping to see a ghost.”

  No one intruded on her solitude for the next two hours. Ashley had some trouble concentrating on her book in the dark sprawling house, which seemed to creak more and more as the lateness grew.

  When the mantle clock chimed eleven, Ashley closed her book. Slowly got to her feet, and proceeded up stairs.

  “I’m going up to my room now,” she told her chest, hoping there was someone listening on the other end.

  As she walked through the empty lobby and mounted the stairs, she forced herself to move slowly, even though her greatest desire was to run to the sanctuary of her room. All of her senses were alert to the possibility of being attacked. When she reached the second floor hallway, she paused to look down the hall to where Leslie Harmon has seen the ghost.

  “I’m in the hall. No sign of a ghost so far, guys.”

  She purposely took her time opening the door to her room, hoping to attract ghostly attention, but none was forthcoming. So she entered the room, and closed and locked the door.

  “Well, I’m in for the night,” she announced. “I’m turning off the microphone. If you want to reach me, call me on my cell. I know you’ll be out there for another hour yet just in case, so I’ll remain up reading. Maybe Captain Boudreau got delayed and will knock on my door if he sees a light. Have a good night.”

  *****

  Clarissa and Peter Rudinski sat across from each other in a room down the hall from Ashley’s. Clarissa was looking out through the crack in the doorway from which she could see the door to Ashley’s room, while Rudinski was packing up the microphone receiver. They had smiled at each other several times during Ashley’s running commentary, and chatted intermittently about the case. Now that she was safely in her room, they relaxed.

  “She’s got guts,” Rudinski said when Ashley signed off.

  “That she does,” Clarissa agreed.

  “She’s not the only one. You faced down that woman with a knife a few months back.”

  Clarissa thought back to the occasion and shivered. “I didn’t have much choice, and I’d probably be dead if Samantha Jones had happened along when she did.”

  “That would have been hard for me to take,” Rudinski said in a low voice, not looking up from the equipment.

  Clarissa thought for a moment that she must have heard him wrong, so she didn’t respond.

  Finally he looked up. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Sure, but I may not answer it.”

  He nodded as if that made perfect sense. “I know about you and Tyler Hamilton. And I’ve heard that you and Andrew Corrigan are going out. Are you sort of . . . exclusive to either one of them?”

  Clarissa smiled. “To use an old phrase, are you asking whether I’m going steady with either one of them?”

  Rudinski grinned. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  She paused. “I don’t know.”

  “Is that you not answering?”

  “No, I would answer if I knew. Things are just up in the air for me right now.”

  “That sort of answers my question. If you don’t know that you’re going steady, then you aren’t.”

  Clarissa nodded. “Very clever.”

  “I have my moments, although you’d never notice since I’m usually Lieutenant Baker’s silent partner.”

  “It’s hard being someone’s assistant. I was an assistant minister for a while before I graduated from the seminary, and keeping my opinions to myself drove me crazy. As you may have guessed, I usually have an idea about how things should be done.”

  “I do, too. The Lieutenant is a good guy and a smart cop, but sometimes I have to bite my t
ongue not to interrupt with a thought of my own. I studied criminology in college, while the Lieutenant worked his way up through the ranks. There are lots of things you can only learn from practical experience, but once in a while book learning comes in handy. Lieutenant Baker doesn’t always see it that way, but if I pass my sergeant’s exams next month, I’ve got a good chance of getting promoted as soon as the next vacancy comes up, which should be in six months. Then he might start asking me for my opinion.”

  “I’m a little like you. I have tons of schooling, but I’m just starting to understand how to apply it in a real church setting. Learning to read people is more important than anything you can get out of a book.”

  Rudinski nodded. “That’s certainly true in police work: you have to keep your eyes open and learn to listen to what people don’t say.”

  Clarissa looked at her watch. “Well, I guess it’s time to pack up. It’s midnight and no sign of the ghost.”

  “Whoever is running this scam probably didn’t have time to put anything in place this fast. I think we’ll have better luck tomorrow night.”

  Clarissa nodded. They both stood up and faced each other for a moment.

  “So if you’re not going steady with anyone, would you consider going out with me? I’m not a lawyer like Corrigan or another minister liker Hamilton, but I do have my charms.”

  Clarissa paused. “Could I think about it for a bit?”

  “Sure,” Rudinski said with a smile. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow night anyway.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Ashley put on one of her brighter blouses and a pair of chinos. She made sure her new, simpler makeup looked good, and carefully adjusted her blond wig until she was satisfied that she exactly fit the image of a young professional ready for a relaxing day at the beach. She had slept well and was ready to face the other guests over breakfast. She figured that tea yesterday was the hardest part of the being accepted process, and now she would probably be considered a member of the small group of loyal residents at the Shipwreck Inn.

  When Ashley got down to the dining room, the other guests were already sitting around the table eating. A table along one wall held a breakfast buffet. Sylvia popped her head in to say that eggs, pancakes, and French toast could be made to order, but Ashley shook her head. She selected some fresh fruit, a bowl of oatmeal, and two slices of whole grain bread, which she toasted. She carefully avoided the bacon, sausage, and scrambled eggs. She got more than she wanted of that kind of thing at home with her aunt. Ashley took her plate and settled into a chair next to Denise. The table would easily have held a dozen people, but the four of them were huddled at one end as if leaving room for a crowd that would never come.

  “Did you sleep well?” Leslie Harmon asked her.

  “Very well.”

  “It was a quiet night,” Joe Harmon said.

  “Maybe all of the disruption is finally over with,” his wife said.

  “You can never tell with a ghost,” Denise said mysteriously.

  “I’m not sure that I believe in ghosts,” Ashley said with a short laugh.

  “That’s because you haven’t had the experiences we’ve had,” said Denise, and she went on to describe being pushed through the door of her room by a ghost.

  That prompted Leslie to repeat her story about seeing the ghost at the end of the hall and having it pound on her door.

  Ashley continued eating her oatmeal, which was nice and thick the way she liked it.

  “I’m sure that was all very upsetting,” she said, trying to strike a dismissive tone that would annoy the perpetrator, if that person was sitting around the table, into choosing her as a victim. “But couldn’t it just be someone playing a prank?”

  “Why would anyone do that?” Leslie asked. “And how would they get into the inn?”

  Ashley shrugged as if to say that these were questions easily answered.

  “I never believed in ghosts either until I stayed here,” Denise said. “But given all that’s happened, it seems to be the most rational explanation.”

  Ashley looked at her, but didn’t comment. “I don’t know a lot of ghost stories, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a ghost actually touching a person. Don’t they sort of just slime you?”

  Joe laughed. “I think that’s only in the movies.”

  “Whatever pushed me was solid enough,” said Denise. “And what does anyone really know about ghosts?”

  Not having a ready answer to that, Ashley finished her toast in silence. “Well, I guess I’d better get on with another day of sightseeing,” she finally announced, standing up.

  “What are you planning to do today?” Leslie asked.

  “First a stroll on the beach. Then I think I’ll take a tour of the local wineries. I picked up a brochure in the lobby with a map to each one. Sounds like a relaxing way to spend the afternoon.”

  She smiled at everyone and went out into the lobby. Heading for the stairway, Ashley stopped by a small end table to admire a vase that looked oriental. Thinking it would look really good in her bedroom, she wondered if Sylvia would sell it to her cheap.

  “Quite nice, isn’t it?” a voice said in her ear.

  Ashley jumped and almost dropped the vase.

  “Careful!” Denise said, taking the vase from her hands and carefully putting it back on the table.

  “I was just thinking that it would look good back at my place. I wonder if Sylvia would sell it to me?”

  Denise gave a dismissive grunt. “Most of this nineteenth century stuff was valueless when the owners bought it. Today it’s hardly worth giving it space, like those old books that fill up the shelves in the parlor.

  “I suppose you’re right. Still, it is kind of cute.”

  Denise gave her a sad smile and went up the stairs. A minute later, Ashley followed. Twenty minutes later, having gotten herself ready for the day, she walked up the street to where her car was parked along the curb and headed in to work.

  *****

  Clarissa was sitting in her office trying to decide on a topic for the week’s sermon when Ashley walked in looking blond and bouncy.

  “I hope we catch this ghost soon,” she said. “I’m not sure how long I can stay cheerful and friendly over breakfast with strangers. I’m not really a morning person.”

  Clarissa smiled. “Oh, I thought you were generally happier in the morning than in the afternoon.”

  “Hmm. I guess I’m just not much of a day person.”

  “Did you learn anything while you were struggling to stay civil over breakfast?”

  “Not much that’s useful. Those people seem to at least half-believe that there’s a real ghost.”

  “Amazing.”

  “Yeah. But I think they can handle that idea better than thinking that someone is actually sneaking in at night to scare them.”

  “Nothing happened last night after Rudinski and I left?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. I slept like a baby.”

  “Let’s hope we have better luck tonight.”

  “I made a point of saying that I didn’t believe in ghosts. Maybe that will egg on our crooks to do something to me.”

  “You believe in living dangerously.”

  “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

  Clarissa had to agree. She returned to her office and started in again on her sermon when the phone rang. Ashley stood in the doorway of her office, gave her a wink, and said that it was handsome Andrew.

  Clarissa was smiling when she answered, but her smile disappeared when she heard the anxious tone in Andrew’s voice.

  “They’ve set Tyler’s preliminary hearing for two weeks from now. I think it’s time to get a criminal lawyer to handle the case. Unless we come up with something soon, Tyler is going to be in a lot of trouble. Did you learn anything from Ed Schyler? You were supposed to call me on Sunday. I tried calling you last night, but it went to voicemail.”

  “Sorry I forgot to call, but things have been really busy
around here.” Clarissa kept her answer vague, not feeling comfortable revealing police business to Andrew.

  “So, did you learn anything?” he asked in an irritated voice.

  “Sam wasn’t real happy with his mother going out with Schyler. I think he had been very attached to his father. But I couldn’t see any motive for Schyler to want to hurt the boy. It probably did more damage to his relationship with Sarah than anything else. She’s mourning her son and drawing away from him. I think Schyler is a dead end. Do you have anyone else we can interview?”

  “I spoke with the vice principal at Sam’s school, and she said that Sam had several meetings with his guidance counselor last year and one a couple of weeks before his death. It’s a bit of a long shot, but I thought it might be worthwhile to speak with her. I’ve set up an appointment with her for one o’clock this afternoon. Would you like to come along?”

  “Sure, I can do that.”

  “Good. Unless we’re together I might not know what you’ve found out.”

  “I already apologized for not calling you.”

  There was a moment of silence. “I know you did. Sorry for that remark. I’m just a bit rattled because of Tyler.”

  “No problem. I can certainly understand that. It’s on my mind much of the time as well.”

  “See you later, then.”

  After hanging up, Clarissa went into the outer office where Ashley was working on the computer.

  “What do you intend to do today?” Clarissa asked.

  “Well, first I’m doing some research on local wineries. That’s where I’m supposed to be spending much of my day, so someone might ask me questions about them. I need to be prepared.”

  “When you’re done with that, could you find out what you can about a Tony Cryer? That’s Sam’s father. He died sometime in the last ten years of a drug overdose up in northern New Jersey.”

  Ashley shook her head. “That kid had it tough, then someone killed him. What a life.”

  “If we’re lucky maybe we can find out who ended it, and get Tyler off the hook.”