by Bobbi Holmes
“Other money? I’m sorry, there seems to be some sort of misunderstanding. Aside from that account I just mentioned, the only thing in your mother’s estate is a piece of real estate in California and whatever personal property she had at home—and her bank account in Frederickport.”
“If that’s true, then it must be worth more than fifty thousand dollars.” Joyce took a deep breath and told herself to calm down. “It’s probably beach property or something, that can be worth a fortune. That sounds like Mother, investing her money in real estate.”
Glancing down at the open file, he shook his head. “No, it’s desert property located pretty much in the middle of nowhere. There are no roads or improvements, and when I looked it up on Google Maps, not close to any town. Your mother spoke of leasing it to wind farmers, but she never did.”
Joyce shook her head in denial. “That can’t be true. My father invented a self-watering system. It made them a fortune!”
“I’m aware of your father’s invention. I was reading the notes on your mother’s estate. Your father sold his patent for just under thirty thousand dollars and half of that was used to purchase the property in California.”
“So you’re telling me the only thing in my mother’s estate is a piece of California desert that might be worth fifty thousand dollars?”
“DENNIS, please stop!” Martha begged. “Mom’s going to hear you!”
“I—I—can’t help it,” Dennis choked out, making a halfhearted attempt to suppress his laughter.
“This isn’t funny!” Martha looked nervously to the closed door leading to the hallway. Joyce had showed up at their house twenty minutes earlier, coming straight from the attorney’s office in Portland. She was now sitting in Martha’s living room while Martha was in her bedroom, catching Dennis up on the new development.
“I knew it all along! Didn’t I tell you your grandmother didn’t have any money?”
“You always said she was probably broke, but technically speaking, she did own some property in Southern California worth fifty thousand. So you aren’t as right as you think.”
“Well, good luck on actually selling that land for fifty K. And when your brothers find out, they are going to have a fit!”
“Serves them right. They were all acting like jerks,” Martha scoffed.
Dennis smiled and pulled Martha into his arms. He kissed her nose. “I love you, Martha Porterfield.”
Wrapping her arms around Dennis’s waist, she looked up into his eyes and smiled. “What was that for?”
“I’m just glad you aren’t anything like your brothers.”
“I suspect you wouldn’t have married me, then,” Martha said with a giggle. Looking up at her husband, she asked, “So you aren’t terribly disappointed we aren’t millionaires now?”
Dennis smiled. “I never for a moment believed your grandmother had the money she claimed. Frankly, if it had turned out she really was rich, the shock would have probably killed me.”
“Hmm…then I would have been a rich widow…” Martha mused mischievously.
Dennis laughed, released Martha, and then gave her a playful swat on the backside. She turned to the door, prepared to go back to her mother, when a thought crossed her mind. She abruptly turned back to Dennis, her smile gone. “What about the funeral?”
Dennis groaned. “Damn. I forgot about that. It’s going to be a mess. Your mom’s going to have to sell the property and then pay off the funeral home. Who knows how long that’s going to take.”
“You think she’ll be responsible for it?” Martha asked.
Dennis considered the question and cringed. “I don’t see how she could personally be responsible, not unless she signed something she’s not aware of. And with your gran, who knows what she got your mother to do.”
Martha shook her head. “No, Mother can’t afford to pay for the funeral. She can’t even afford to keep her house up.”
“Chances are your mother won’t be personally responsible, but the estate probably will be. That means before she takes any money, she’ll need to pay off Gran’s debts.”
“And what if she doesn’t get what the attorney says the land might be worth?”
“Plus, there will be real estate fees when she does sell,” Dennis added.
“Damn, what was Gran thinking?” Martha fumed.
“What your grandmother always thought about. Herself.”
JOE MORELLI WAS SITTING at the table, talking on his cellphone, when Brian Henderson walked into the lunchroom on Thursday afternoon. Just as Brian finished pouring himself a cup of coffee, Joe got off the phone.
“That was Kelly,” Joe told Brian. “Ian’s dog, Sadie, ran away.”
“You’re kidding me? I always thought that dog was well trained. Surprised it would run off.” Brian took a seat at the table with Joe and sipped his coffee.
“Kelly wants me to keep an eye out for it when we’re driving around town. I guess Ian is broken up about this.”
Brian frowned. “Isn’t that a job for animal control?”
“She didn’t ask me to go looking for the dog, just to keep an eye out.”
Brian shrugged. “I guess we can do that.”
“I just hope someone didn’t steal her like before.”
Brian sipped his coffee and then set the cup on the table. “That’s right. I forgot about that. The guy was into dog fighting. From what I recall, he got sent away for a pretty long time. It’ll be a number of years before we have to worry about him again.”
“Brian, Joe,” Chief MacDonald greeted them when he walked into the lunchroom the next moment.
“Chief,” Joe and Brian said in unison.
“I have some interesting information about the Agatha Pine case,” MacDonald said as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
“What’s that?” Joe asked.
The chief walked to the table and sat down. “While we still have a motive for our possible killer, it may be harder to prove in court.”
“Why’s that?” Brian asked.
“It seems Agatha Pine was a fraud. She wasn’t wealthy like she led everyone—even her family—to believe. The only thing of value in her estate is a piece of property located in the California desert with an estimated worth of maybe fifty thousand dollars. And that was left to her daughter. She didn’t leave anything to her grandchildren.”
TWENTY-NINE
Lily stood at the kitchen window, gazing out into the side yard. The afternoon breeze brushed the tips of the trees growing along the perimeter of the property. Leaves fluttered, reminding Lily of countless tiny hands waving furiously. It was a whimsical thought for someone with such a heavy heart.
“I imagine Walt is having a difficult time knowing Sadie is missing and unable to do anything,” Lily told Danielle, who stood at the counter, preparing a chicken salad for their dinner.
Danielle glanced briefly at Lily—whose back was to her—and cringed. The last time she had lied to Lily like this was when she had failed to tell her about Walt’s existence.
“I know how much Sadie means to him,” Lily said with a sigh, still looking out the window as if she hoped Sadie would come bouncing into the yard at any moment.
“So you really didn’t talk to Ian much when you were looking for Sadie?” Danielle asked as she divided the salad between two plates.
Lily shook her head. “No. We thought it would be best if we split up and each looked in opposite directions. I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Bad feeling?” Danielle set the plates on the table.
Lily turned from the window and took a seat in front of one of the salads. “The last time Sadie went missing, someone did take her. I can’t imagine Sadie running away. She’s too well trained. She loves both Ian and Walt too much. Someone has to have her.”
“Well, I have a gut feeling this is all going to work out.” Danielle speared a piece of chicken with her fork.
“Your gut feelings tend to be more spot on than mine, so I’ll hap
pily go with yours.” Lily picked up her fork.
“I know you and Ian have spoken on the phone several times today. Any progress in your relationship?”
“We don’t have a relationship.” Lily stabbed her salad with the fork.
“You know what I mean. You two are just in a rough spot. I thought perhaps now that you’re actually talking again, you might be able to work through this.”
Lily frowned at Danielle. “Just because we’re both worried about Sadie doesn’t mean he’s going to start believing in ghosts.”
“I guess my great plan didn’t work,” Walt said when he appeared in the kitchen. Danielle glanced his way but did not make any attempt to acknowledge his presence.
Leaning back against the kitchen counter, his arms folded across his chest, Walt listened to the conversation. Not wanting Lily to be aware of his presence, he resisted the temptation to summon a cigar. If Lily started gushing to him about her concern over his feelings regarding the missing dog, it would be too difficult for Danielle to continue the charade. He decided in that moment that as soon as it was dark, he would have Sadie slip outside and return home.
“That’s true. But now that he’s at least talking to you, you have an opportunity to convince him,” Danielle insisted.
Lily frowned at Danielle. “I can’t believe you’re saying that. It’s like you actually want me to go groveling after Ian.”
“It’s not groveling. Ian is a good guy. He just doesn’t understand.”
“Dani, if you’ll remember, you’re the one who keeps saying you don’t have room in your life for a guy who doesn’t trust you. Why should I have room for a guy who doesn’t believe me?”
“This isn’t the same thing,” Danielle argued.
“Anyway, you have your own relationship issues to worry about.”
Danielle looked up from her salad and frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You and Chris. What’s the deal with you two? One minute you’re taking off for the weekend with him, and the next you two act like old platonic pals.”
“If you recall, that weekend didn’t work out terrific for any of us.”
“You know what I mean,” Lily scoffed.
Danielle glanced warily to Walt, who continued to eavesdrop.
“You want to know what I think it is?” Lily asked.
About to take a bite of her salad, Danielle paused and looked at Lily. “What what is?”
“The problem with your relationship with Chris.”
“Umm…not really.” Danielle lifted her fork back to her mouth and took the bite.
“It’s Walt.”
Chewing her salad, Danielle shook her head and mumbled, “I really don’t want to talk about this.”
“Why? You don’t have a problem discussing me and Ian. And if you’re worried Walt might pop in, just say hi, Walt, and I’ll know to stop talking.”
“Maybe we should just change the subject? If you don’t want to discuss Ian and your relationship, I understand. I’ll respect your privacy.” Danielle refused to glance over to see Walt’s reaction to what Lily was saying.
“Oh, I don’t really mind talking about me and Ian. But frankly, there really is nothing much to say at this point. We’ve pretty much come to a block wall. But you and Walt, that’s another matter.”
Danielle opened her mouth to say something, but Lily started talking again before Danielle could utter another word.
“I’ve a theory. I think Walt’s the reason you can’t move forward with Chris in any sort of non-platonic relationship. I know from personal experience that when you have strong feelings for someone, it’s impossible to pursue a personal relationship with another guy. Which is why, if I don’t get over these feelings for Ian, I’ll probably stay single for the rest of my life. As for you, not sure you’re ever going to get into a serious relationship with anyone as long as you have these strong feelings for Walt.”
“Oh, hi, Walt!” Danielle blurted.
IAN FELT PHYSICALLY ILL. In less than a week his relationship with Lily had fallen apart, and his dog had run away. He felt as if his life was a poorly written dark comedy. After all, it included floating stemware and a mystery woman who disappeared off cliffs—one who looked eerily like a dead woman.
Flopping down in his living room recliner, Ian leaned back, closed his eyes, and ran the events from the last week through his head. Less than a week earlier Agatha Pine had fallen to her death across the street. He had watched them remove her lifeless body from the house. However, he had given the poor woman little thought, aside from attending her funeral. Instead, his thoughts kept going back to the unexplained things he had witnessed, trying to find a logical explanation for it all, while trying to find his beloved Sadie, not to mention dealing with his heartache over Lily.
Opening his eyes, he stood up and wandered over to the front window. Resting his hands against the windowsill, he looked outside and across the street to Marlow House. His gaze moved to the attic window. He often wondered if this was where George Hemming had been standing when he first spied Walt’s lifeless body hanging in the attic.
Ian was just about to move away when movement from the lower section of the attic window caught his eye. Leaning forward, closer to the window, he blinked, unable to fathom what he was seeing.
“Sadie? Sadie is in the attic at Marlow House?”
Sadie, her front paws resting on the sill in the attic, stood at the window and looked outside. Her tongue hung out at a goofy angle as she glanced around.
LILY HAD JUST SAID HELLO to Walt—believing he had just made an appearance—when Ian came storming through the kitchen door without knocking.
“What the hell is going on, Lily?” Ian demanded.
Lily stood up and looked at Ian while Walt and Danielle exchanged quick glances.
“What are you talking about?” Lily asked.
“Has Sadie been here the entire time?” he demanded.
“Sadie isn’t here,” Lily snapped, now defiantly propping her balled fists on her hips.
“Don’t give me that. I saw her in the window.”
“Then you’re seeing things! I would certainly know if Sadie came into the house since I’ve been sitting in the kitchen for the last hour, and the only way she could get in is the doggy door,” Lily shouted.
“You wonder why I have a problem believing your outrageous tales when you’ve obviously been lying to me all this time!” Ian shouted.
Lily stomped her foot. “Lying, how?”
“Keeping Sadie here while I’m out looking for her, worried sick!”
“Sadie is not here!” Lily shouted at the top of her lungs.
In the next moment, Sadie ran into the kitchen, her tail wagging. She jumped up on Ian, licking his face.
“Damn,” Walt muttered under his breath.
Wide-eyed, Lily stared at Sadie. “Where did she come from?”
“Oh please,” Ian snapped. “Come on, Sadie, let’s get out of here.”
“I didn’t know she was here, honest,” Lily insisted. She turned to Danielle, looking for answers.
Danielle stood up. Just as Ian reached the door, she said, “Ian, wait. Lily really did not know Sadie was here.”
“You knew?” Lily asked with a whisper.
“It was Walt’s idea,” Danielle began.
“Sure, blame me,” Walt muttered.
“Please, don’t bring Walt into this.” Ian turned abruptly to the door and tried opening it. It refused to budge.
After letting out a sigh, Walt said, “Sit down, Ian, we need to get this cleared up.”
“Why won’t this door open?” Ian grumbled as he continued to twist the doorknob.
“What do you mean Walt’s idea?” Lily asked Danielle.
“I think you need to sit down so I can explain.” Danielle pointed to the chair Lily had been sitting on. Reluctantly she sat down.
Ian let go of the door. “Forget it, I’ll go out the front door.” Without looking at
either Lily or Danielle, Ian called Sadie and marched to the door leading to the hallway. Just before he reached it, the door abruptly slammed shut.
Startled by the unexpected closure, Ian froze. He glanced back and saw Danielle and Lily sitting calmly at the table, while Sadie—who was not following him—sat next to Lily, watching him.
“Must have been some wind,” he grumbled.
“In the house?” Danielle asked.
“Sadie, come!” Ian snapped. Sadie stood up and then looked to one of the empty chairs at the table. She then sat down again, giving a little whimper.
“Sadie, I said come!” Ian shouted.
Sadie lay down on the floor, resting her chin on her front paws. She peeked up to Ian, her canine expression conveying an undeniable expression of guilt.
Ian shook his head and walked to the kitchen door, intending to open it before retrieving his dog. But like the back door, it refused to budge.
Now fuming, Ian turned to Lily and Danielle. “What the hell is going on here?”
With supreme calm, Danielle pointed to an empty chair and said, “Please sit down, Ian. Let me explain, please.”
Ian stared at them a moment, saying nothing. He then glanced down to Sadie, who made no sign she was prepared to go with him. Finally, he walked to the table and reluctantly took a seat.
“Thank you, Ian. I know Lily has told you about Walt,” Danielle began. “We wanted—”
“How did you know about the dream?” Ian blurted.
Danielle arched her brow. “Dream?”
“You mentioned it at the funeral. How did you know I had a dream about Walt Marlow?”
“Because he told me,” Danielle explained. “It’s the only way he can communicate with people like you—people who can’t see spirits. I call it a dream hop.”
Sitting rigid in the chair, looking a bit like he might be in shock, Ian stared at Danielle, his expression blank. He remembered what Walt had said in the dream—that Danielle called it a dream hop. “I saw Darlene Gusarov yesterday at Pilgrim’s Point. It was when I was looking for Sadie.”
A smile curled the corner of Danielle’s mouth. “Really?” She glanced to Lily and then back to Ian. “You aren’t the only one who doesn’t normally see spirits, but has been able to see Darlene.”