The Ghost Who Lied (Haunting Danielle Book 13)

by Bobbi Holmes

He then went onto tell Danielle about his morning and what he had learned from Adam Nichols.

  “Adam should probably go into the video surveillance business. What is this, his third time?” Danielle asked.

  “He does have a knack of catching the most unexpected things on his cameras.”

  “I just don’t want to watch his private tapes.” Danielle snickered.

  “Private tapes?”

  “Think about it, Chief. Just what else is Adam Nichols video recording on his cameras? The women’s locker room at the gym?”

  MacDonald chuckled. “I certainly hope not. That would give me a major headache. I thought you two were friends now?”

  Danielle let out a sigh. “I think of him more like my younger brother, who I love to harass.”

  “But Adam is older than you.”

  “Only physically.” She then sighed again and said, “I have to admit I’m rather impressed at what Adam keeps capturing with his cameras. It’s kind of amusing, because he’s convinced Marlow House is rigged with security cameras.”

  “I know. But I have to wonder if he’s going to start rethinking that assumption,” the chief suggested.

  “Why do you say that?” Danielle asked.

  “Think about it. Is Adam going to wonder why your hidden cameras didn’t capture Agatha’s fall?”

  “You have a point.”

  “Is Agatha still around?”

  “I don’t know. I’d like her to move on. But now this…well, I would sort of like to talk to her one more time before she does. Confront her with what she’s done.”

  “I just wish she’d be more forthcoming about what really happened on the day she died.”

  “That’s the thing about dead people, they can be just as contrary and stubborn as when they were alive,” Danielle told him.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Danielle found herself alone Saturday evening—except for Walt. Her guests had gone out to dinner and a movie, and Lily was across the street at Ian’s.

  Walt was taking advantage of the empty house by watching a movie on the parlor television. It was something he couldn’t do if guests or Joanne were in the house. Unless, of course, it was a movie Danielle or someone else happened to have on. While Walt enjoyed his movie, Danielle decided to go outside to the porch swing and watch the evening’s sunset.

  She was outside for less than fifteen minutes when she got company. It was Agatha Pine.

  “You’re still here?” Danielle asked.

  “Obviously.” Agatha sat next to Danielle on the swing.

  “I thought you were going to move on?”

  “I don’t seem to be able to,” Agatha grumbled.

  “Perhaps that has something to do with all your lies.” Folding her arms across her chest, Danielle leaned back in the swing, enjoying the gentle back and forth motion while gazing across the street at the orange and golden-hued skyline. The sun’s edge barely peeked over Ian’s roof.

  “I told you, it wasn’t exactly a lie about my money. Nothing but a slight exaggeration, and one I can hardly be credited with spreading.”

  “So was your inability to walk also just a slight exaggeration?” Danielle asked.

  Furrowing her brow, Agatha looked over at Danielle. “What are you talking about?”

  “You never needed that wheelchair. It was just another way to manipulate your family,” Danielle accused.

  “You have no idea what I needed!” Agatha snapped.

  “Did you know your youngest grandson was arrested for your murder?” Danielle asked.

  “Shane, arrested?” Agatha asked dully. “Why would they think he was responsible for my death?”

  “If you weren’t able to walk by yourself, someone had to have helped you to the stairs leading up to the attic. And since Shane was the first one to find you and claimed he was in the attic at the time you fell, they just figured he must have been the one to take you up there—and the one to help you down those stairs.”

  “I told you it was no one’s business how I got up there! I can’t imagine how they could possibly arrest my grandson on such flimsy circumstantial evidence.”

  “Just so you know, they dropped the charges. I can see how devastated you are that this inconvenienced your grandson,” Danielle said sarcastically.

  “You certainly aren’t very nice to dead people!”

  Danielle shrugged in response, still looking across the street at the sinking sun.

  “So why did they release Shane?” Agatha asked after a few moments of silence.

  “I thought you would have figured it out after I mentioned your disability exaggeration.”

  “You aren’t making any sense.”

  Danielle let out a sigh. “The police know you were perfectly capable of walking up those stairs on your own. Perfectly capable of getting to the attic stairs without anyone helping you.”

  “How would they know that? I’ve been in a wheelchair for almost a year now!”

  “But you didn’t always stay in that chair,” Danielle said. “You see, Adam Nichols installed a security camera at one of his rentals. Apparently, you accompanied your daughter to work one day. I have to wonder, why was that exactly? Did you usually go with her when she cleaned houses?”

  Pursing her mouth, Agatha slumped down in the swing and refused to look at Danielle.

  “It obviously wasn’t to help her clean. Since, according to the chief, who saw the video, you stayed in your chair—right up to the point Joyce left the house. She was gone for about fifteen minutes, and during that time, you were all over that place. Walking as good as I do. And the moment you heard your daughter return, you were back in the wheelchair, playing the invalid.”

  “I wanted Joyce to take me to a restaurant. But she insisted she had to clean the house first. She didn’t want to come back to our house to get me, it was across town from the restaurant, so I had to go with her. And when we were there, she realized she forgot something and had to run to the store. She wouldn’t take me. Said it was too much work getting the wheelchair in and out of the car. I had to stay in the house alone. What was I supposed to do, just sit in that stupid chair and twiddle my thumbs?”

  “Your little game not only inconvenienced your family when you were alive, it could have helped send your grandson to prison.”

  “He’s in the clear now?” Agatha asked hesitantly.

  “I’m not sure the chief is convinced he’s all that innocent. But now knowing you were capable of getting around by yourself, he really doesn’t have anything to hold him on. Of course…” Danielle studied Agatha’s profile. “If you tell me he had something to do with you falling down those stairs, I suppose the chief will keep digging and try to build a case.”

  Unsmiling, Agatha glanced to Danielle. “He has nothing to investigate.”

  Danielle shrugged and let out a sigh. “Then I suppose I need to call my insurance agent.”

  “Why is that?”

  “If one of your grandchildren didn’t help you down those stairs and it really was an accident, then I’m probably liable for some damages. At least, I won’t ask my insurance company to fight it. Of course, that’s ultimately their call.”

  Agatha turned to Danielle and frowned. “Are you saying if my grandson didn’t have anything to do with my death, you would welcome a lawsuit from my daughter?”

  “Welcome is a bit extreme. I mean, who actually welcomes a lawsuit? I just wouldn’t be adamantly opposed and insist my insurance company tries to fight it. After all, that’s why I have insurance.”

  Looking straight ahead again, Agatha muttered, “I don’t think Joyce will sue you. She’s too afraid. It won’t happen unless my grandsons get her to do it.”

  Agatha vanished. Danielle glanced around. Agatha was nowhere in sight.

  A moment later, Danielle’s cellphone began to ring.

  She sat up and pulled it out of her pocket and looked at it. Marie Nichols was calling. “Hello, Marie, how are you this evening?”

  �
�I was wondering if you and Lily have had dinner yet,” Marie asked.

  “Umm…yeah, we ate about an hour ago.”

  “Oh dear. This is rather last minute of me, but Adam is stopping over in a little bit to pick me up. We’re going out to dinner, and I thought maybe you girls—and Ian—might join us.”

  “Gee, I’m sorry, Marie. But like I said, we already ate. We can take a rain check.”

  “How about if I bring over dessert after Adam and I eat?” Marie suggested. “Is Lily home?”

  “Lily’s across the street at Ian’s.”

  “I’d like to see Ian too. Perhaps we could all meet at Marlow House for dessert?” Marie asked. “I have something I’d like to talk to Lily and Ian about.”

  When Danielle got off the phone a few minutes later, she called Chris.

  “Hey, Danielle, are we still on for tonight?”

  “Yes, but can we make it a little later? Marie and Adam are stopping over with some dessert.”

  “You want to do this another night?”

  “No. I don’t think they’ll be here more than an hour. Marie goes to bed pretty early. And I’d rather not wait.”

  “What about your guests?”

  “They went to a movie. But even if they show up, I don’t think it’ll be a problem. They’ll probably go on up to their rooms.”

  HAD his movie not just ended, Walt would have been annoyed when Agatha materialized before him, standing between the sofa and television. Instead of impatiently asking her to move out of the way, he used his energy to turn off the set.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “I’m leaving,” she announced.

  “Really?” Walt sat up on the sofa, moving his feet from its cushion to the throw rug covering the wood floor.

  “Yes. But there’s a member of my family I need to speak with before I can move on.”

  “Just one family member?”

  “There’s only one I need to talk to,” Agatha said primly.

  “Your daughter, right?” Walt chuckled and leaned back on the sofa. “I imagine you want to ask her for forgiveness for all your lies. But unless she’s like Danielle, she won’t hear you.”

  “One thing I’ve picked up during my time here, it seems you’ve managed to communicate with Lily somehow. I want to know how you do that.”

  “Lily?” Walt shook his head. “Lily can’t see or hear me.”

  “But she has. I know it. I just don’t know how you did it.”

  “Ah, you mean a dream hop?”

  Agatha frowned. “Dream hop?”

  “That’s just a name Danielle gave it. It’s when a spirit enters the dream of a living person. The only problem, the person dreaming assumes it’s nothing more than a normal dream—that the spirit isn’t really there.”

  “I want to know how to do that!” Agatha said. “I need to do it before I move on.”

  Walt eyed Agatha. “Actually, you don’t have to wait to move on in order to dream hop. It’s something spirits are able to do after they leave this plane. Of course, I’m not sure how it all works after you move on, and I’m fairly certain that once you leave here, you’re limited in how frequently you can dream hop.”

  “Why is that?” she asked.

  Walt shrugged. “I assume it has something to do with preventing spirits from interfering with the living—in the same way spirits trapped on this realm are constricted in their powers.”

  “Then tell me how to do it. I want to know,” Agatha insisted.

  “You really want to make amends with your daughter, don’t you?”

  “Whatever I may or may not wish to say to my daughter—or anyone else in my family—is really none of your concern. Our business is ours—no one else’s.”

  “If I don’t tell you how to dream hop?” he asked.

  “Then I suppose you will have to get used to me staying here.”

  “I hope I don’t regret this,” Walt muttered before giving Agatha basic dream hop instructions.

  “YOU TOLD her how to dream hop?” Danielle groaned. She stood alone in the parlor with Walt. He had just told her of Agatha’s request.

  “I believed her when she says she wants to move on. But something is preventing her. Considering all the lies she fed her family over the years, I think she needs to find some way to clear the air with them. And frankly, if I didn’t tell her how to do it, she would eventually figure it out on her own.”

  Danielle plopped down on a chair. “They certainly aren’t going to think it’s anything but a dream.”

  “True. And I explained that to Agatha. But sometimes we simply need to express ourselves—to say our piece—before we can move on. I don’t think this is really about Agatha’s daughter. I doubt it will make any difference to her. But it will help Agatha, and if she’s then able to move on, we’ll all be better for it.”

  “Walt, you’re probably right,” Danielle reluctantly admitted.

  “As I normally am.”

  Danielle let out a snort.

  “Very unladylike,” Walt chided.

  Danielle giggled.

  The television turned on.

  “You want to watch a movie with me?” Walt asked.

  Danielle glanced at the TV. “I don’t think we have time. Marie called, and she and Adam are coming over in about an hour or so with dessert. I already called Lily. She and Ian are coming over in a little bit. Marie wants to talk to them.”

  Walt arched his brow. “About what?”

  Danielle shrugged. “I suspect about the house. I think she might be worried Lily is mad at her for selling it. But it really wasn’t Marie’s fault.”

  “Is she bringing enough dessert for your guests?” Walt asked.

  “I have no idea what she’s even bringing. But I don’t think it’ll be a problem. Our guests mentioned they were going to the movies after they had some dinner, so I don’t expect them back soon. And if they do show up when Marie and Adam are here, I have a chocolate cake in the kitchen.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  The apple pie would taste delightful with vanilla ice cream. But then, so would the chocolate cake. Marie lingered in the bakery section of the grocery store, trying to decide on which one to purchase. Perhaps both?

  “Late night snack?” came a friendly female voice.

  Marie looked up and found Beverly Klein standing a few feet away.

  “Oh, Beverly! How are you this evening?” Marie greeted. She then glanced at her watch. “And it’s not all that late. We just finished dinner.”

  “I’m just teasing,” Beverly said with a grin as she picked up a plastic carton of chocolate chip cookies. “I had a little sweet tooth tonight myself and decided to pick up something. Living alone now, I just don’t see the sense of baking.”

  Marie nodded in agreement. “As far as I’m concerned, there is never a reason to bake!” She laughed and then added, “At least not as long as we have such a wonderful bakery like Old Salts in town. Unfortunately, they close around six, so we had to pick up something here.”

  “The grocery store’s bakery is pretty good.” Beverly set the carton of cookies in her cart.

  “My problem is deciding what to get, cake or pie? Or both?”

  “Oh my, you do have an appetite!” Beverly teased.

  Marie grinned. “It’s not all for me. Adam and I are taking dessert over to Marlow House and having a little visit with Danielle and Lily.”

  Beverly looked around. “Adam’s here?”

  Marie nodded. “Yes. He went over to the liquor section to pick up some wine.”

  Beverly glanced briefly toward the direction of the liquor section and then looked back to Marie. “How is Danielle doing since that horrible accident at her party? Although, it appears it wasn’t exactly an accident. I heard they arrested Agatha’s youngest grandson. They say he pushed her down the stairs.”

  Marie shook her head. “Arrested and released already.”

  Beverly arched her brow. “Really? Does this mean it
really was an accident?”

  “The police seem to think so. They based their original assertion on the erroneous belief that Agatha wasn’t capable of getting up those stairs by herself, and since Shane was the one to find her…” Marie shrugged.

  “You say they released him? Why?”

  “It seems Agatha wasn’t quite the invalid she claimed to be. A security tape captured her out of the wheelchair and quite mobile.”

  “Security tape?”

  Marie started to explain how Agatha’s mobility was captured with one of Adam’s security cameras, yet then remembered he had asked her not to say anything. “Umm…well, that’s what I understand.”

  “I remember when he forged his mother’s signature on one of her checks,” Beverly whispered.

  “I remember something about that.”

  “Steve told me about it. Although, I don’t imagine he would be thrilled if he heard me talking about it.” Beverly chuckled. Marie understood that Beverly’s husband, Steve, who had been the bank manager, had recently died.

  “What exactly happened? I don’t quite remember.”

  “Stupid boy tried cashing one of his mother’s checks. Forged her signature. But he wrote it for more than what was actually in her account. At first Joyce denied writing the check, but when she found out who was involved, she immediately changed her story. Insisted it was all a mistake.” Beverly shook her head at the thought.

  “Stealing from your mother is a horrible thing to do—but killing your grandmother…” Marie cringed. “I can’t imagine how he could have lived with himself if he had done something like that. After all, how does one kill a member of their family they have professed to love and then just go on with their life as if nothing ever happened?”

  “Had Shane actually been responsible for his grandmother’s death, who’s to say he ever really loved her?” Beverly suggested.

  “True. But I remember how he and his siblings seemed to dote on Agatha.”

  Beverly shrugged. “Or maybe he did love her, and it was just a tragic accident? Had he actually been responsible, I mean.”

  “I suppose that would be worse, don’t you?” Marie asked.