by Bobbi Holmes
Adam groaned. “You didn’t, Grandma.”
“I certainly did. Danielle wouldn’t say what happened between them, but she did say she hopes they get back together. So we really can’t sell Ian’s house on him.”
“Grandma, I hate to see Ian move too. But he sounded like it was over.”
“Oh fiddle,” Marie scoffed. “I’m sure it’s just a little love spat.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, we’re not signing anything until this weekend. So if Ian and Lily get back together, and he wants to stay, I guess you don’t have to sell.”
“Not sure I want to,” she huffed.
Adam almost rolled his eyes at his grandmother’s words, but caught himself in time. Instead, he decided to change the subject. “You’ll never guess who called me on my way over here.”
“Who?”
“Joyce Pruitt’s youngest, Shane.”
“She should have sold that boy to the gypsies when they passed through Frederickport.”
“I suspect he is a little too old for them now,” Adam said with a chuckle.
“So what did he want?”
“He wants me to find him a house on the beach.”
“Certainly you aren’t going to rent to him!” Marie gasped. “From what I remember, it cost Joyce a pretty penny when she had to pay for the repairs to that last house he and his roommates trashed. I was surprised he found someone willing to rent to him.”
“He doesn’t want to rent. He wants to buy a house. And he wants one right on the beach. If yours didn’t have a buyer already, I would be tempted to sell it to him. But then Danielle would probably kill me when she met her new neighbor.”
“Buy? He doesn’t even have a job,” Marie scoffed.
“According to Joyce, he sells things on eBay,” Adam explained.
“What kind of things? Drugs?”
Adam chuckled. “I think he tried that once, as I recall. Landed him in jail. He used to work with his older brother Henry. They’d buy stuff at garage sales, fix them up. Henry refinishes old furniture.”
“I still don’t see how he could afford to buy a house. Especially one right on the beach.”
“According to Shane, they’re all coming into a significant inheritance, with Agatha gone.”
Marie pushed her foot against the floor, sending her chair into rocking motion. “But doesn’t that money go to Joyce?”
“According to Shane, it’s to be divided equally between the grandchildren and Joyce.”
Marie shook her head and uttered several tsk-tsk-tsks. “It really doesn’t seem right. Joyce has been quite the devoted daughter, and the only one of her children worth a lick is Martha.”
“Apparently there’s enough to go around. According to Shane, his grandmother was worth millions.”
“Yes. I always heard it had something to do with an invention of her husband’s. I never really knew him. They moved shortly after they were married, and I didn’t see Agatha again until she moved back to Frederickport with Joyce. By that time, she was a widow.”
“Maybe I can sell them each a house,” Adam said with a grin.
“I suppose this means Joyce isn’t working for you anymore? Certainly she isn’t going to keep cleaning houses.”
“I assume she’s going to quit. I haven’t talked to her since her mother died. But I plan to go to Agatha’s funeral. That’s why I stopped over here, to see if you wanted to go with me.”
Marie let out a weary sigh. “I suppose I should. I’ve known Agatha forever. Never particularly liked her, not even when she was a young woman. She always thought she was better than everyone else.”
TWENTY-ONE
Ian looked out the front window. It was dark outside. The windows across the street at Marlow House were lit up. He wondered what Lily was doing. He glanced down at Sadie. She had been restless all night, and each time he opened the front door, the dog tried slipping outside. But now she was sleeping, and he was hungry. There was no food in the house.
Thirty minutes later, Ian sat alone at the pizzeria, eating a slice of pepperoni pizza. He was about to take another bite when he looked up and noticed Chief MacDonald walk in with his two sons. He watched as the chief stood at the counter and placed his order, Eddy and Evan by his side.
When the chief turned around from the counter, his eyes met Ian’s. Leaning down, the chief whispered something to his sons and pointed to an empty booth across the restaurant. The boys scampered to the table while the chief walked to Ian.
“Evening,” the chief greeted him.
“Chief,” Ian said with a nod.
“Can I sit down for a moment? We need to talk.”
Ian glanced briefly to MacDonald’s sons. “Please do. I’ve been meaning to talk to you too.”
The chief sat down. “What about?”
Ian moved restlessly in the seat. “It’s just something Evan said on Saturday. I thought you should be aware of it.”
MacDonald cocked his brow. “Evan? What did he say?”
“Umm…remember when Eddy said something about Evan believing Walt Marlow’s ghost was in the house?”
MacDonald smiled. “Yes. What about it?”
“I talked to Evan later that day, and he seemed convinced Walt Marlow’s ghost is his friend, and it seems Lily is in on the game.”
“Game?”
“I don’t want to get Lily in trouble. But I thought you should know and maybe you’d want to talk to him.”
“Ian, I’d like to tell you something off the record.”
Ian eyed the chief. “What?”
“If you repeat what I tell you, I’ll have to deny it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know you broke up with Lily.”
Ian let out a sigh. “I figured you did.”
“And I know why.”
Ian didn’t respond.
“My son can see spirits. So can Danielle, Chris, and Heather.”
Ian stood abruptly. “Please, Chief, not you too!”
“Would you sit down and listen to me.”
“I feel like I’m living in that old movie The Body Snatchers.” Ian wadded up his paper napkin and tossed it on the table.
“Body snatchers?” The chief frowned.
“Everyone around me, people who I care about, have suddenly been replaced. They’re talking about ghosts and haunted houses. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.”
“Sit down, Ian.”
“No. I’m getting out of here.” Leaving his half-eaten pizza on the table, he headed for the door.
“What about your pizza?” the chief shouted after Ian.
Standing up, MacDonald watched as Ian left the restaurant. With a sigh, he turned and walked to Eddy and Evan. Before sitting down with them, he glanced to the door. It opened. But it wasn’t Ian coming back into the pizzeria. It was Joyce Pruitt.
“WOW. You sure cleaned out Gran’s closet quick,” Martha muttered as she stared into the now empty closet in the downstairs master bedroom.
Joyce had followed Martha into the bedroom a moment earlier. She cursed herself for not closing the closet doors before her adult children arrived for dinner.
“Well, this was my bedroom.” Joyce walked to the closet and closed the doors. “I just got rid of her clothes. There was no reason to keep them. And I plan to move back in my room.” She turned to Martha.
“What did you do with her clothes?”
“I took them to the thrift store.”
“Oh my, Gran would hate that. I remember how she used to put clothes she didn’t want in the trash. Said she didn’t want other people to wear her things.”
“Well, Mother is not here anymore. And that’s simply wasteful and selfish.”
“I agree.” Martha shrugged. “I’m just saying.”
When Martha and Joyce returned to the kitchen, they found Martha’s three brothers and her husband, Dennis, sitting at the table, eating the pizza Joyce had picked up for dinner.
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“I hope you leave some for us,” Joyce told them as she watched the slices of pizza quickly disappear.
“So what’s the deal, Mom?” Henry asked. “Does the attorney send us each a check, or what?”
“I imagine it has to go through probate,” Dennis said.
“What’s probate?” Shane asked.
“It’s a legal process the will goes through before the money is distributed,” Dennis explained.
“I don’t get it,” Shane said. “If Gran has a will and she says it’s divided between all of us, what business is it of the court’s? Give us our freaking money!”
“It has to go through probate, Shane,” Martha said as she took a seat at the breakfast bar. “They have to make sure the will is valid.”
“Do all wills go through probate?” Shane asked. “When Stu’s mom died, I don’t think her will did. He got everything right away.”
“From what I remember, Stu’s mom didn’t own much. I think small estates can avoid going through probate,” Martha said.
“Well, we know Gran’s will have to go through probate then,” Henry said with a laugh. “Her estate isn’t small.”
Larry glared at Henry. “I wish Gran could hear you right now. Wouldn’t she be shocked that you’re practically wetting your pants. So excited to finally get your hands on her money.”
“Don’t be crude, Larry,” Joyce scolded.
“You’re one to talk!” Henry laughed. “At least I tried to be nice to her when she was alive. All you two did was fight.”
“Please, boys, don’t argue,” Joyce pleaded.
“So how long does this probate take?” Shane asked.
“I think it can take months. Sometimes a year,” Dennis said.
“Oh crap!” Shane groaned.
“You aren’t serious?” Henry asked.
“We’ll know more when I see the attorney on Thursday,” Joyce said.
“I still think we should all go to the lawyer with you. After all, don’t they normally read the will with everyone present?” Henry asked.
“You’ve been watching too much TV,” Larry scoffed.
“He’s doing me a favor, working me in. He already had a full schedule this week. He said it would be better if I came in alone.”
“Why is that?” Shane asked.
“He probably figures the more people there, the longer the meeting will take,” Dennis suggested. “And like your mother said, he’s fitting her in.”
“But why her?” Shane asked.
“According to what Gran always said, Mom is the executor,” Martha reminded them.
“I don’t want to go to the attorney’s,” Larry said. “But if we have to wait a year to get the money, that’s going to suck.”
“What about Gran’s bank account here?” Martha asked. “I remember something about that not having to go through probate. Gran told me she had Mom down as the beneficiary, so the money in that account would bypass probate and go directly to Mom.”
“That doesn’t seem right,” Shane whined. “I thought the estate was divided between all of us. Why does Mom get all of that money?”
“So where is it?” Henry demanded.
Joyce resisted her impulse to chastise her sons for their attitudes, and instead said, “It was the bank account where Mother deposited her Social Security checks. Most of the money that was in there is coming back out. Social Security is taking it.”
“How can they do that?” Shane asked.
“Because when someone dies during the first of the month, their estate normally can’t keep the money that was deposited that month,” Dennis explained. “It happened to my grandfather.”
“Well, that sucks,” Henry said.
Dennis looked at Joyce. “What about the funeral?”
Joyce frowned. “What do you mean?”
“If it’s going to take possibly months to settle your mother’s estate, what about the funeral expenses?”
“Mom already took care of that. Basically she handled everything. She picked out her casket, chose what music she wanted, she even worked with someone to write her memorial. I admit I think it’s an incredible waste of money, and I was tempted to see if there was some way to do something less expensive. But it is her money, and I suppose she has the right to decide if she wants to be buried or cremated. Plus, I have to admit I appreciate the fact she made all the arrangements, took care of everything, and I don’t have to.”
“So the estate doesn’t have to pay for the funeral?” Dennis asked.
“No. She’s already paid for everything.”
“Yeah Gran!” Henry said with a shout as he grabbed another slice of pizza.
“You guys do know the cops think one of us might have killed Gran, don’t you?” Larry asked.
Henry paused mid-bite and looked across the table at his brother. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re just saying that because they dragged you into the station after you got back in town,” Shane said. “Hell, we all wondered where you went.”
“I told them what happened. Then they started quizzing me on if Gran was capable of getting upstairs on her own,” Larry told them.
“That’s ridiculous. None of us killed my mother.”
“They questioned me too,” Dennis said.
Joyce looked at her son-in-law. “You didn’t tell me.”
Dennis shrugged. “I just figured it was standard protocol. I think they’re trying to figure out how Gran got up those stairs and why she was alone.”
“Cops told me Shane was the one who found her,” Larry said as he shoved the last bite of pizza into his mouth.
“So what? Ben Smith was there too. He came out of the upstairs bathroom just after I found her,” Shane countered.
“Was that right after you pushed her?” Larry taunted.
“Larry!” Joyce snapped. “That’s a horrible thing to say!”
“Of course, if Shane pushed poor Gran, that means we get to divide up his share,” Henry added.
Narrowing his eyes, Shane glared at his brothers. “You guys are jerks.”
“This isn’t a joking matter,” Martha interrupted. “Do you really think the police suspect one of us killed Gran?”
With a snort Henry said, “I doubt they think you did her in. You’ve always been such a goody-goody wimp.”
Pursing her lips, Martha glared at Henry.
“Don’t talk to my wife like that,” Dennis snapped.
“She was my sister before she was your wife,” Henry countered.
“Please stop!” Joyce shouted. “Enough. I don’t believe anyone thinks any of us killed Mother. It was a tragic accident, nothing more.”
“Speaking of that, I think we need to sue Danielle Boatman,” Henry said. “That woman is worth a fortune. Maybe not as much as Gran. But she’s got bucks.”
“Getting greedy?” Dennis said under his breath.
“We are not suing Danielle,” Joyce said.
“Why not? Gran fell at her house and got killed. I think it would be a slam-dunk lawsuit,” Henry said.
“He’s right,” Shane agreed. “Anyway she probably has good insurance. Won’t cost her anything.”
“I am not suing Danielle Boatman,” Joyce reiterated.
“It’s the gold coins, isn’t it, Mom?” Martha asked.
“Danielle Boatman was very gracious about those coins. Unless you want your mother to go to jail, you’ll drop the idea of a lawsuit,” Joyce told them.
“I still can’t believe you actually took them out of the bank,” Shane said with a laugh. “Of course, it would have been way cooler had you put them someplace where Boatman wouldn’t have found them.”
“You honestly think she’s going to put you in jail for filing a legitimate lawsuit? Our grandmother died after falling down her stairs,” Henry reminded them. “I bet she’s expecting us to sue her.”
“She could cause legal problems for your mother.” Dennis spoke up. “If I was Joyce, I wouldn’t wa
nt to test her either.”
“Then Mom doesn’t have to do it. We’ll sue,” Shane said.
“I don’t think it works that way. The only one who can sue on behalf of your grandmother is her estate. Joyce is the executor of Gran’s estate, and if she doesn’t want to sue, then you can’t,” Dennis explained.
“Why not?” Larry asked.
“Because you wouldn’t have any legal standing to sue. Only the estate would.”
“But since we’re the beneficiaries, aren’t we the estate?” Henry asked.
Dennis considered the question a moment. “I don’t know. I guess you would have to ask an attorney about that.”
TWENTY-TWO
Ian sat in front of his laptop computer at the kitchen table. A week earlier he and Lily had been desk shopping. It was probably a good thing they hadn’t found anything they liked.
His plan was to turn one of the spare bedrooms into a real office. After living in the rental house for a little over a year, he thought it was about time to create a more professional office space. Since graduating from college over a decade earlier, he had lived primarily in furnished rentals, never putting his personal stamp on his current abode. Being with Lily had changed how he looked at things. It had made him want to create a home. But now, he was single again.
The cellphone sitting next to the computer on the kitchen table began to ring. He picked it up and looked at it. His sister, Kelly, was calling.
“Hey, Kel, what’s up?”
“I just called to see how you’re doing. You sound tired.”
“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” he told her.
“Thinking of Lily?” she asked.
“I told you I didn’t want to talk about her. Anyway, I was up all night researching a new story.”
“I thought you were done researching your article?”
“This is a new one.”
“What’s it about?” she asked.
“I’m not ready to talk about it. Not even sure I’ll get around to writing it.”
“That’s funny, last week when I asked what your next story was, you said you didn’t know.”
“Well, that was last week,” Ian retorted.
“Okay, so you don’t want to talk about Lily; you don’t want to talk about your new story.”