The Ghost and the Baby
(Haunting Danielle, Book 21)
A Novel
By Bobbi Holmes
Cover Design: Elizabeth Mackey
* * *
Copyright © 2019 Bobbi Holmes
Robeth Publishing, LLC
All Rights Reserved.
* * *
This novel is a work of fiction.
Any resemblance to places or actual persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
* * *
www.robeth.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
The Ghost and the Halloween Haunt
Haunting Danielle Newsletter
Haunting Danielle Series
Bobbi Holmes
Unlocked Hearts Series
The Coulson Series
Also by Bobbi Ann Johnson Holmes
Dedicated expressly to my readers who have shared with me their thoughts on my books through emails, blog comments, and social media. You are the energy that fuels my muse. Thank you.
One
Daisy Faye Morton stood in her bedroom on the second floor, looking down at the street from the corner windows. To her right was Marlow House, vacant since she was three years old. She had no memory of anyone ever living there, yet she had met its owner two years earlier when Brianna O’Malley had come to inspect the property. O’Malley had been practically a girl at the time—the same age as Daisy was now.
Turning her attention to the street, she spied the postman walking toward her house. Her father had made a point of telling her not to leave the house today until the mail arrived. If there had been somewhere she wanted to go, she would have made up some excuse for her father about why she hadn’t waited. Yet she had nowhere to go this morning; plus he had piqued her curiosity, especially after that unfortunate incident when he had walked in on her and her gentleman friend borrowing his office. It was his own fault, she thought. After all, her father was supposed to be in Portland that day.
Between the shouts, Daisy had reminded her father that she was no longer a girl. But it wasn’t just the compromising position that had infuriated him, it was the other man’s age—old enough to be your father—Elmer Morton had roared. Daisy found that quite hypocritical, considering what the age difference had been between her own parents.
As for the fact the man was much older than her, that was hardly her fault; after all, most of the eligible men were off at war. There was of course her sister’s beau, Kenneth Bakken, who had just been released from the army, returning home with a missing leg. There was also Daisy’s old beau, Lewis Samson, who was 4-F and was unable to serve his country.
Just as the postman started up her walkway, Daisy darted from the room and headed downstairs to answer the door. She was alone in the house. Her only sibling, Maisy Faye, was at some boring Red Cross meeting, and her father was at work. When she threw open the front door a few minutes later, the postman had just stepped up on the porch and was about to ring the bell.
“Good morning,” he greeted her. “Is it Daisy or Maisy?”
“I’m Daisy,” she said brightly, playfully snatching the mail from his hands and sending her blond curls bobbing. “Remember, I’m the pretty one!”
He laughed at her comment—not because she wasn’t pretty, but because she and her sister Maisy were identical twins.
Several minutes later, Daisy was alone again in the entry hall, sorting through the mail, wondering what her father thought so important about today’s delivery. In the stack of mail there was only one envelope addressed to her, and curiously, the return address was her father’s attorney.
Staring at the unopened letter, Daisy frowned. “Why is he sending me something?”
After tossing the rest of the mail on the entry table, Daisy hastily opened the envelope addressed to her and pulled out the letter. She began to read.
“No!” she shouted a moment later. “He can’t do this!”
Angrily clutching the letter in her right hand, she looked frantically around the entry hall, trying to figure out how to get to the funeral home, cursing her sister for taking the car today. She needed to straighten this out with her father—now—and it was not something she could do on the phone. Nor could she wait for him to come home tonight.
Daisy briefly considered calling Lewis and asking him to drive her to the funeral home, but then she would have to tell him why, and knowing Lewis, he wouldn’t stop until he got the truth. One thing she hated about Lewis, he could always see through her lies. Of course, that never stopped him from pursuing her. She couldn’t tell him what was in the letter—she needed to fix this before anyone found out.
The only option, she would have to walk to the funeral home. Hastily she slipped on her jacket and hat, grabbed her handbag, and shoved the attorney’s letter into her jacket pocket. Leaving her house a few minutes later, she angrily made her way down the street, replaying in her mind the contents of the letter. If she had a gun, she would be sorely tempted to shoot her father. Yet the only problem, she realized it was too late for that. On the bright side, if she managed to fix this, she could always shoot him later—a thought she found somewhat comforting.
Morton Funeral Home was located on the south side of Frederickport in a large two-story Victorian. Elmer Morton had lived in the house with his first wife, and after she had died and he met his second wife, he moved into the house next door to Marlow House, where he had raised his two daughters, Daisy and Maisy.
Slightly out of breath from the brisk walk, Daisy stood outside the funeral home and looked up to the second floor and the window of her father’s office. She knew he was alone, considering his newly hired assistant was off sick, and the woman who helped in the office didn’t work on Wednesdays, and there were no strange cars parked out front. Digging one hand in her coat pocket, she took hold of the crumpled letter and then made her way up the walk.
The front door was not locked. It never was during business hours. As soon as she opened the door, bells jingled, heralding her arrival. The moment she stepped inside, the scent of lilies overwhelmed her, and she cringed. Since she was a small child, she loathed the smell of lilies. Although she had to admit it smelled better than the embalming room. Shivering at the thought, she closed the door behind her, sending the bells on another jingle.
Daisy was about to call out for her father when he came walking into the entry from a nearby room. He halted abruptly when he saw her.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
Elmer Morton looked more like her grandfather than father, with his white hair and deeply creased face and slight hunched build. Wearing a dark suit befitting a mortician and sole
mn expression, he looked unkindly at his daughter.
Pulling the letter from her pocket, she waved it at him and said, “What do you think?”
“I assume that is the letter from my attorney?” he asked calmly.
Crumpling the letter into a ball, she threw it at him. It landed at his feet. “How could you?”
He looked down at the ball of paper, making no attempt to pick it up. He looked back to Daisy and asked, “Shouldn’t you be at home packing?”
“And just where am I supposed to go?”
He shrugged. “It’s not really my problem, is it? As you told me, you are an independent woman. Now you can prove it.”
“Of course, your favorite, Maisy, doesn’t have to move out?” she hissed.
“Maisy has always behaved like a lady. I am tired, Daisy. Tired of your endless antics and vulgar behavior. It’s over. You have what you’ve always wanted, your independence.”
“And just like that, you’ve written me out of your will?” she fumed. “How could you?”
“I wouldn’t get too excited about it. I don’t plan to go anywhere right away, and the doctor tells me I’m in relatively good health. So perhaps, if you can learn to restrain yourself and prove to me you are capable of acting not just as an independent woman, but a responsible one with some semblance of morals, then maybe you will one day be written back in. But that day is not now.”
Red-faced, she glared at her father and immediately recognized his resolve. After a moment of silence, she said, “Fine. Write me out of the will until I prove I can be—respectable enough for you. But why do I need to move out of our house?”
“It’s my house, Daisy, not yours. And I don’t want you there anymore. As the letter stated, you have one week to move out.”
“Move out where? And how am I supposed to pay for a place to live?”
“I would assume an independent woman would get a job. That’s normally how it’s done. Or perhaps you could just marry your current beau. Oh…that’s right, he doesn’t have a job, does he?” Elmer turned from Daisy and started down the hallway toward the staircase.
“Where are you going?” she demanded.
“I have work to do. Go home and pack your things,” he told her without looking back.
Stunned, she watched her father walk away. Just as he started up the stairs, she ran after him.
“Wait, Father, please, can we discuss this!” she begged.
“I’m done arguing with you,” he said wearily, continuing up the staircase, his back to her.
“You can’t just throw me out like this! I’m your daughter!”
“Go home, and start looking for a job,” he told her, still walking up the stairs. “You’ll need one if you’re going to find a place to move into before I have you evicted. I’d hate for you to have to live on the streets.”
“You can’t be serious!” She rushed up the stairs after him. Just as he was about to step onto the second-floor landing, she grabbed the back of his jacket, wanting him to stop and look at her.
Unprepared for the physical contact, Elmer stumbled and lost his balance. Just as he started to fall, Daisy reached out to catch him, but his shoe slipped on the edge of the stairs, accelerating the momentum of the fall. Had Daisy not grabbed hold of the handrail, she too would be toppling down the stairs with her father. His arms flailed in all directions as he tried to grab hold of something, anything to break the fall. Daisy watched in morbid fascination as her father plummeted downward until his head hit the first-floor landing. She could hear his skull crack just before blood began spilling onto the carpet.
Dazed, Daisy walked slowly down the stairs, her eyes riveted to her father’s seemingly lifeless body. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Once she reached the first-floor landing, she knelt by his side and took hold of one wrist, feeling for a pulse. Nothing. Panicked, she rolled him over onto his back and looked down at his lifeless face. He was dead.
She just stared at him a moment. Instead of tears, anger welled up inside her.
“You stupid old man!” she hissed. “How could you do this? I don’t want you dead! What am I going to do now? I didn’t think it was possible to hate you as much as I do, but at this moment, I’ve never hated you more! You stupid, stupid clumsy old man!”
Daisy rolled him back over, placing him in the same position he had been in after he had fallen down the stairs. She then ran down the hall and picked up the letter she had thrown at her father. Shoving it in her pocket, she turned one final time to look at his dead body.
After hurling a final curse in his direction, she slipped out of the funeral home and started back to Beach Drive, doing what she could not to be seen. The last thing she needed right now was for anyone to know she had been with her father when he had fallen down the stairs. Considering what his attorney had sent her today, someone might believe she had pushed her father down the stairs in a fit of anger. But that was not what had happened, she told herself. He had fallen down the stairs on his own. She only wished it had happened a week earlier.
Two
Pearl Huckabee stood in her bedroom on the second floor, looking down at the street from the corner windows. To her right was Marlow House, vacant when she had been a child. It was vacant now, at least it had been for the last two weeks. From what Pearl understood, Walt and Danielle Marlow were in Hawaii on their honeymoon and would be returning any day now. She smiled in satisfaction, knowing they were in for a surprise when they returned home. It had taken dogged persistence, but Pearl had managed to find a way to end the influx of strangers coming and going next door. If the Marlows had any reservations, they would be forced to cancel them when they returned home. Marlow House Bed and Breakfast was out of business—Walt and Danielle just didn’t know it yet.
Motion from her yard caught her attention. Pearl looked down and spied the black cat from next door sitting in the middle of her flower bed, looking up at her. As his gaze met hers, he quietly did his business and then covered it with soil before sauntering off to his own yard. If she didn’t know better, Pearl would swear the demon cat had just defiantly used her garden as a litter box while daring her to do something about it.
“You little monster!” Pearl hissed. She turned from the window and headed downstairs.
It hadn’t been the first time she had caught the Marlows’ cat using her yard in such a disgusting manner. She didn’t know who they had left in charge of the animal, but whoever it was, they certainly weren’t monitoring its whereabouts. After talking to Danielle about her pet, Pearl had stopped seeing it in her yard. But just days after they left for their honeymoon, the pest showed up in her garden again. Yet it was always when she was upstairs. It was almost as if the cat knew she would be unable to do anything when on the second floor.
After several days of watching the cat use her yard from her bedroom window, she’d decided to outsmart the animal. Pearl had set up a cage-like trap in her yard, baited with tuna, sure to attract the annoying feline. Once in the cage, she planned to haul it down to a shelter—in another town. If she took him to the shelter in Frederickport, Danielle would be sure to get the little monster back.
Yet each morning, when she went to check the cage, the tuna was gone—and so was the cat. It was as if someone was releasing the animal from the cage before she could get to it. As Pearl stormed downstairs, she decided to take care of the menacing feline once and for all. After all, she took care of the bed and breakfast, didn’t she? Pearl figured if she didn’t act now, then once Walt and Danielle returned, it would be too late to do anything.
Before going outside, she grabbed a pillowcase from the laundry room. She figured she could shove the little beast in the pillowcase, and it shouldn’t be too hard to carry it back to her house, shove him—and the pillowcase—into the cage, and then get rid of him once and for all.
Going outside, she grabbed hold of the cage trap and began dragging it toward the wrought-iron fencing separating her yard from Marlow House. There was a loos
e section she could squeeze through. Leaving the cage on her side of the property line, she slipped through the opening, pillowcase in hand.
There was no shortage of friends willing to feed Max while Walt and Danielle were on their honeymoon. Lily and Ian were just across the street, Heather was one door over, and Chris lived down the road. Any of them would have been likely candidates. Even Joanne had offered to stop by. Yet it was Marie who had been given the task. She enjoyed feeling needed and it gave her the opportunity to practice her newly acquired levitating skills. As it turned out, Marie was a good choice because she had become something of a night owl in her death, which allowed her to keep a closer eye on Max’s antics.
Marie had also offered to bring in the mail, but it was decided envelopes floating up from the mailbox to the front door might shake up some of the neighbors. Therefore, Lily and Ian assumed that chore.
Wearing a new sundress—something she had seen in one of the local dress shop windows and had manage to duplicate—Marie sat at the kitchen table and watched as Max entered through the pet door. The moment he spied her sitting there, he stopped in his tracks and sat down, the metal pet door swinging close behind him.
The Ghost and the Baby Page 1