Ghost Who Came for Christmas

by McIntyre, Anna J

  “Do you know what room Glandon is staying in?” MacDonald asked.

  “The downstairs bedroom.”

  “If Williams really did follow him here, like you suspect, maybe she came downstairs for a late night booty call,” MacDonald suggested.

  “We know he went up to her room, Lily saw him. And he admitted being there. He said it was just to talk.”

  “Maybe it was more than a talk.” MacDonald rested his hands on his hips, looking from the body to Brian. “If she followed him here, and was trying to rekindle their romance, maybe she was becoming a nuisance so he slipped up to her room to tell her it was over. But she didn’t want to take no for an answer, so she came downstairs in her nightgown, trying to convince him. Maybe they argued, he hit her. Things went too far, and he had to get rid of the body, so he drug it outside in the storm, put it into his car, and then drove somewhere, and dumped the body over a cliff.”

  “If Glandon killed her, he has the resources to disappear the moment he realizes we’re onto him.”

  The chief sighed. “Let’s not jump too far ahead. We need to ID our Jane Doe first.”

  Cleve had heard enough. Pulling cash from his pocket, he threw enough bills on the table to cover his tab and a tip. Tugging the top of his jacket collar up to his chin, he slid off the booth bench, leaving the newspaper on the table. Hastily making his way to the exit, he kept his head down.

  Once outside, he picked up his pace, hurriedly walking along the boardwalk to where he had parked his vehicle. When he was a good distance from the café, he pulled off the knit cap he had been wearing and tossed it into a trashcan along the way.

  Before coming to Pier Café he had stopped at Marlow House, asking to see if he could speak to Richard. According to Boatman, Richard had gone with another guest to Pier Café for lunch.

  The idea came to Cleve when he was returning to his car, after talking to Danielle. According to her, Richard and the other guest were first dropping Lily and Jessica off at the theatre to watch The Penguins of Madagascar. After they dropped the two off at the show, they were heading to Pier Café, and Danielle told Cleve he could probably catch Richard there, or he could try calling him on his cell phone.

  Before going to the café, Cleve had stopped at the camping store and picked up the first coat he found that was one size larger than his normal size. He then grabbed a nondescript knit cap. After making his purchases, he made his way to the diner. The best he hoped to do was to observe Richard, and try to get a general feel for what was going on with him. The Richard he knew tended to be reserved, awkward, somewhat insecure, despite his money. Cleve never imagined he would secure a seat behind Richard, enabling him to clearly overhear his conversation.

  When Cleve reached his car, he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and accessed a file stored on the phone. Reading through the document, he let out a curse and called Peter.

  “If you’re calling for more time, don’t bother asking. I refuse to watch another member slip away,” Peter said when he answered his phone.

  Looking out to the ocean, Cleve held the cellphone by his ear. “I’m not calling for that. You were right.”

  “You found out something?”

  “We shouldn’t have worried about Anna. It was the other woman staying at Marlow House, the one with the little girl.”

  “He’s gotten involved with her?”

  “Not that way.” Cleve pressed the heel of his free hand against his forehead. He was getting a headache.

  “In what way?” Peter asked.

  “Her name is Patricia,” Cleve told him.

  “Yes, I remember. I met her at the open house. So?”

  “Think a minute, Peter. Patricia—Richard’s Patricia.”

  Peter didn’t respond immediately. After a few moments of silence, he said, “That’s impossible.”

  “I don’t think so. I have a horrible feeling about this.”

  “Have you seen them together?” Peter asked. “When he introduced me to her at the open house, there was nothing to suggest anything more than the most casual of relationships. A new acquaintance—nothing more.”

  “They’re friendly—and if she is who I think she is—”

  “Call him home,” Peter snapped.

  “I knew you were going to say that. But I may not be able to do it quick enough. And if he has already turned his back on the truth, what’s the point?”

  Peter did not respond. After a few moments of silence, he said in a stern voice, “Just do it.”

  “I will sir. But it may take time.”

  “As you pointed out, Cleve, we do not have time. I trust you to take care of the matter, and do it in such a way it does not come back to hurt Earthbound Spirits. Do you understand?”

  “Yes sir,” Cleve choked out.

  “Come now, Cleve,” Peter said, his voice no longer stern, but gentle and soothing. “The worst that can happen is the best that can happen. You know that.”

  Cleve sighed, “Yes, I do. But I’m also a little afraid…anxious.”

  Peter laughed. “I envy you Cleve, having this chance. Of course, don’t be selfish, and if you discover there’s no reason for you to go home, stay and continue in your service. It’s our duty. We must lead as many to the truth as possible, before we move on.”

  When Cleve said goodbye a few minutes later, he felt better than he had when he had initially placed the call. Getting into his vehicle, he started for home. He had driven not quite a mile when he noticed the police cars and ambulance parked along the road next to the beach. Curious, he pulled over and parked his vehicle. Getting from his car, he walked toward the beach, stopping on the boardwalk. He looked out toward the ocean.

  A crowd had gathered on the beach, surrounding a number of police officers and other responders. Stepping onto the sand, he walked toward the first group of people.

  “What’s going on?” he asked one of them.

  “They found a body. It washed up on shore. A woman,” one of the people said.

  “Do they know who it is?” Cleve asked.

  “No. I heard there’s not much left of her face,” another person told him. “But I overheard two of the officers talking and they think it’s a woman that went missing from Marlow House on Christmas night.”

  “They said that?” Cleve asked.

  “Yeah. I don’t think they meant for me to hear. I asked another cop about it, and he said they have no idea who she is and probably won’t know until they run fingerprints.”

  “I heard she’s wearing a nightgown,” another one said.

  Cleve turned from the group and made his way back to his car. Once inside his vehicle, he made a second call to Peter Morris.

  Chapter Thirty

  When Danielle opened her window on Sunday morning and looked outside, she was relieved to see the sun shining, and only a smattering of white puffy clouds in the sky.

  There was no reason to rush downstairs and prepare breakfast. The previous night, Chris had offered to take everyone for Sunday Brunch at Pearl Cove. They wanted her to join them, but all Danielle wanted to do was sleep in on Sunday and spend a lazy morning drinking coffee while reading her Sunday paper. She didn’t mention she also wanted some quiet time with Walt, where they could chat and discuss the strange events of Christmas week.

  The night before, she had convinced Ian to leave Sadie with her while he and his sister joined the group for brunch. In no hurry to dress, she slipped a robe on over her pajama bottoms and T-shirt and stepped from her room.

  She found Sadie, curled up by her door in the hallway, waiting for her. The dog jumped up, wagging her tail. Following Danielle out of the bedroom was Max, who strolled panther-like behind her. As Danielle headed down the hallway, Sadie leaned over to Max and nipped his tail. Max responded with a hiss and swatted the dog’s nose. Unaffected by the swat and hiss, Sadie let out a bark and charged down the stairs, rushing past Danielle.

  Danielle’s first stop was to turn on the coffee pot. Once the co
ffee started brewing, she headed for the front door. She stepped out on her porch to pick up the Sunday morning newspaper when she came face to face with Chief MacDonald. “Hey Chief, you’re back!”

  “Morning Danielle.”

  Sadie charged outside, heading straight for the chief. Butt wiggling, tail wagging, she enthusiastically greeted him. After receiving several hearty pats, the golden retriever turned and ran back into the house, her tail still wagging.

  The chief leaned down, picked up the newspaper, and handed it to Danielle.

  “Thanks. When did you get back?” Danielle stepped back into the house.

  “Yesterday morning.” He followed her inside.

  “So tell me about your Christmas.” Danielle shut the front door.

  “This isn’t really a social call; you think we can talk alone? Maybe in the parlor?”

  “Sure. But they’re all gone, anyway.” Danielle tossed the newspaper onto the entry table and led the way into the parlor.

  They found Sadie and Max already in the room. Max sat on the windowsill, looking outside, his tail swishing back and forth, while Sadie stood behind him, trying to grab the tip of his tail in her mouth. Each time she made an unsuccessful grab, the tail twitched again. Danielle suspected the cat was enjoying the game.

  “Where’re your guests? I heard you have a full house.” He tossed his hat onto a chair and sat down.

  “They heard about Pearl Bay’s Sunday Brunch, so they all went. Joanne even went with them.”

  “Why didn’t you go?”

  Walt appeared in the room. “Ahh, the chief’s here.” He took a seat on the sofa.

  Upon seeing Walt, Sadie let out a bark and turned from Max. Charging for the sofa, she jumped up on Walt. The ghost’s lap disappeared under the golden retriever.

  Danielle glanced briefly at the pair, rolled her eyes, and then looked over to the chief. “I kinda wanted some quiet time, especially with everything that’s been going on. I suppose Joe and Brian told you about my guest who vanished in the middle of the night on Christmas.”

  “Yes, that’s one reason I’m here.”

  Danielle took a seat on the sofa next to Walt and Sadie. “Did you find out anything about her?”

  “I’m not sure. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but a woman’s body washed up on the beach yesterday morning.”

  Danielle’s left hand gripped the sofa’s arm. “Oh my god, not Anna!”

  “We don’t know.”

  Danielle frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s about the right size, right age. Blonde.”

  “Joe and Brian knows what she looks like, couldn’t they make an identification?” Danielle asked.

  The chief shook his head. “It looks like she fell from quite a distance, face down, on some ragged rocks. Ripped her up pretty badly.”

  “Oh no…” Danielle leaned back in the sofa and closed her eyes. She felt ill.

  “How in the hell did that happen?” Walt asked. “One minute she’s in my attic and the next she’s in the ocean?”

  Danielle opened her eyes again and looked across at the chief. “What about fingerprints?”

  “There’s nothing in our data base. We ran them, but she’s not there. I was hoping you might know what her nightgown looked like.”

  “Her nightgown? Why?”

  “That’s what our Jane Doe was wearing, a nightgown. I have a picture of it on my phone.” The chief started to reach for his cellphone.

  “Don’t bother, Chief. I never saw her in a nightgown. She might have one, but I never saw it. On Christmas morning she came downstairs in a robe, with pajama bottoms.”

  “Do you know if anyone might have seen her in a nightgown on Christmas night?”

  Danielle considered the question a moment. “I suppose you could ask. But the only one I know who ever went up into her room was Chris, one of the other guests. It was late Christmas night, the night she disappeared. He could’ve seen what she had on.”

  “Where’s Chris now?”

  “He’s with everyone else, having brunch at Pearl Bay. I don’t expect them back for a couple hours.”

  “We’re having the blood tested from your rug, hopefully that might help identify her,” he told her. “I have to assume the blood belongs to Williams. Maybe she had a cut and it got on the rug.”

  “That’s sort of what I thought too.”

  “Plus, I can’t imagine the killer would leave such an obvious clue behind. But we’ll have to wait for the results of the test.”

  “Killer? You’re saying this was murder?”

  “Who would want to murder Anna?” Walt asked.

  “According to the coroner, she has defensive wounds.”

  “Do you think she was dead before or after she went into the ocean?” Danielle asked.

  “The coroner says before.”

  Danielle folded her arms across her chest and leaned back on the sofa. “If it was Anna, what do you think happened? Did she sneak out and meet someone in the storm…wearing her nightgown?”

  “Or maybe she came downstairs in her nightgown and something happened here, and whoever killed her took her to one of the cliffs and pushed her in the ocean, assuming the body would wash out to sea,” the chief suggested.

  “Someone here? Are you saying one of my guests might be a killer?”

  “According to Brian, your guest, Chris Glandon, who goes by the alias Chris Johnson, threatened Ms. Williams days before Christmas. It’s possible they were in a relationship, Glandon tried to break it off, she followed him here, they argued at the diner, she went to his room Christmas night, and they fought there.”

  Danielle turned to Walt. “Did you hear any fighting coming from Chris’ room on Christmas night?”

  “Walt is here?” the chief asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t smell any cigar smoke.” MacDonald scratched his head.

  “I thought you knew the lack of smoke doesn’t mean he isn’t in the room.” Danielle sounded annoyed.

  “No Danielle. At one time I would’ve delighted in helping the Chief put Chris away, but he’s starting to grow on me.” Walt waved his hand, summonsing a lit cigar.

  “I smell it now,” the chief mumbled.

  “Chief, I bought Walt a subscription to Netflix and on—”

  “A ghost watches Netflix?” MacDonald interrupted.

  “You know he hates that word,” Danielle chided.

  “Fine, a spirit watches Netflix? Seriously?”

  “Why is that so strange?” Danielle asked.

  “I thought it was a very thoughtful gift.” Walt puffed his cigar.

  Danielle smiled. “Thank you Walt.” She turned her attention back to the chief. “Anyway, Walt spent Christmas night in the parlor watching television. After Anna checked in, the attic was basically off limits for him.”

  “Why?” the Chief asked.

  “I think guests deserve privacy. And don’t you think it would be a little creepy, Walt lurking around in one of my female guest’s rooms?”

  “I do not lurk,” Walt told her.

  Danielle sighed. “You know what I mean, Walt.”

  “Are you telling me he was downstairs all night? He didn’t see anything suspicious going on?”

  Danielle glanced at Walt. He shook his head. She looked back at the chief. “Nothing. He had left the door slightly open, had the television on low. Max was playing guard in the hallway.”

  “Max? Your cat?”

  “Yeah. Letting Walt know if Chris was coming out of his room—which he only did once. I assume that was when he went upstairs to talk to Anna. But he returned to his room alone and shut the door.”

  “How are you so certain of that?” the chief asked.

  “Max told Walt, of course.”

  “You forget one thing, Danielle,” the chief reminded.

  “What’s that?”

  “Anna obviously came downstairs sometime, because she’s gone. What does Max say about tha
t?”

  Danielle let out a heavy sigh and leaned back in the sofa. “I don’t know. That one has me stumped. The only thing we can figure out, Max fell asleep and she got by him. But, had Chris had some sort of fight with Anna in his room, not only would Max had heard it—Walt would have too.”

  “You seem very certain this Chris guy is innocent of any wrong doing.”

  “Yes, you do, Danielle.” Walt studied her. “And I suspect it isn’t just because Max and I were downstairs all evening.”

  Danielle silently considered the series of events before responding. After a moment, she said, “You’re forgetting, Anna’s clothes.”

  “Her clothes?”

  “When Anna left, she took everything with her that she brought—except for the suitcase. I’m not sure why she left it behind, but she didn’t leave anything else.”

  “I understood she left the gifts she received behind,” the chief reminded.

  “True, but you’re missing my point. If she snuck down here like you suggest, to see Chris, and then they got into some fight, then that would mean he went back up to her room afterwards and gathered up all her clothes, to make it look like she left. But if he did that, why leave the suitcase behind? That doesn’t make any sense. It just raises more questions.”

  The chief stood up. “It’s all a theory at this point. But, if that blood on the rug matches the woman we found yesterday, everyone in Marlow House will be coming under closer scrutiny.”

  “If it’s Anna, I don’t believe she was killed here.” Danielle stood up.

  “How can you be so certain of that? If she was in Glandon’s room, with the door shut, it’s possible something happened without Walt hearing.”

  “Ahh, but you’re forgetting one crucial fact.” Danielle grinned.

  “What’s that?”

  “Anna’s spirit. A murdered person’s spirit is not going to just disappear without making some commotion.”

  “I thought you said you can’t always see or hear a spirit. So if she made a commotion, you might not know,” MacDonald said.

  “True, but Walt would.”

  “Walt?”

  “Certainly. While I can’t necessarily see or hear every spirit that passes my way—or at least I don’t think I can, an assumption I made because I never saw my parents or Lucas—that’s not true for spirits. You put a bunch of spirits in a room, and they can see each other—just like if you put a bunch of living people in a room, they can see each other.”