The Haunted Valentine (A Lin Coffin Mystery Book 7)

by J A Whiting

  The pictures showed Leonard and his wife at their wedding, on the beach, riding bikes, painting the house, sitting together with friends on the back patio. The couple looked so happy and in love that tears formed in Lin’s eyes.

  A more formal photo of Marguerite showed the young woman to advantage with her shoulder-length, thick black hair, perfect skin, and deep blue eyes smiling out at the photographer. Lin’s heart squeezed tight with sadness at what Leonard had lost.

  At the corner of the table, next to another photo of Marguerite holding something in her hands, stood a sailor’s valentine. There was a heart in the center of a compass rose all created with tiny pink, pale blue, and white shells which spread out in a pattern of small flowers to the edges of the box. The words, Remember Me, had been formed in an arc over the compass rose. In the photograph, Marguerite was holding the valentine close to her heart, her smile beaming at the person who was taking the picture.

  Tears spilled from Lin’s eyes and not wanting Leonard to come into the room and see her emotion, she quickly brushed at the drops of water on her cheeks and cleared her throat.

  Suddenly, freezing air swirled around Lin making her shiver and she gripped the table to steady herself. Nicky whined. Lin slowly turned around.

  Marguerite Reed stood next to the fireplace, her atoms sparkling and shimmering with a beautiful silver light, her blue eyes looking kindly in Lin’s direction.

  Lin gasped and stared at the apparition before her. The dog sat next to his owner, his little tail thumping on the floor and his gaze locked onto the spirit in front of him.

  “Marguerite.” The word slipped from Lin’s lips as tears tumbled down her face.

  The woman smiled sweetly at Lin and gave a slight nod before the particles of her body glowed golden and began swirling faster and faster until they sparked and disappeared.

  Leonard stepped through the dining room into the living room carrying his lunchbox and when Lin saw him coming she batted at her cheeks and spun around so he wouldn’t see her face.

  “Coffin.” Leonard’s tone was tentative.

  “Ready to go?” Lin asked without turning.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. I got something in my eye.”

  “Did something scare you?”

  Lin faced the man. “No. What do you mean?”

  Leonard took some steps forward and scrutinized Lin’s face and then he glanced down at the dog who let out a happy bark and tapped the floor with his tail.

  “Did you get cold?” Leonard asked his friend.

  Lin’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “What?”

  “Did you get cold?” Leonard asked, his voice firm. “Did you see something?”

  Lin lifted her eyes to her friend. Could Leonard see Marguerite? Did he think that she could see Marguerite? She forced an uneasy smile and asked in a joking voice, “What do you mean? Like a ghost or something?”

  Leonard’s face was serious. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  The tears began to fall again, but this time Lin didn’t try to hide them. Instead, she hurried forward, wrapped Leonard in a hug, and pressed her face into her friend’s chest.

  24

  Lin and Leonard sat together on the sofa talking.

  “Oh, no.” Lin suddenly remembered the new project meeting she and Leonard were supposed to be at.

  “I postponed the meeting to tomorrow,” Leonard informed Lin with a smile. “If things worked out here today, I knew we were going to have a lot to talk about.”

  With a smile, Lin nodded. “How did you know? How did you know I could see ghosts?”

  “I didn’t know for sure, but I wondered about it. Little things made me think so.”

  “You can see them, too.” Lin’s eyes danced with happiness.

  “No, I can only see Marguerite.”

  Lin blinked. “Oh. Does she talk to you? Are you able to speak with each other?”

  Leonard shook his head. “No. She sits with me in the evenings, she’s in the kitchen when I make breakfast. I can usually tell what she’s thinking by the way she looks at me. I talk to her all the time, but she isn’t able to answer, or maybe I just can’t hear her.”

  Lin explained that she could see spirits, but they never spoke to her. She told Leonard about the young boy who could see ghosts and hear them in his mind. “Sometimes I feel like I’m about to hear something, but it never happens.”

  “I thought you could see ghosts when we were at Liliana’s funeral.” Liliana was a close friend of Libby Hartnett and had very powerful paranormal gifts. “Marguerite was at the funeral. I figured other ghosts must be in attendance. I saw you watch as Marguerite walked up the hill. I wondered that day if you were like Liliana. And, you were at her house one day when she wasn’t accepting visitors. I figured Liliana wanted to see you before she passed.”

  Leonard ran his hand through his hair. “Libby Hartnett and Liliana helped me when I lost Marguerite. In one of my drunken stupors, I let slip that I could see Marguerite’s spirit. Libby talked to me a lot explaining that I wasn’t crazy and she helped me better understand what was going on.”

  Lin sat straight. “Did Libby hint that I could see ghosts?”

  “No way.” Leonard shook his head. “She would never, ever do such a thing.”

  Lin realized that she should have known that Libby would never speak of her skills, but she let out a sigh of relief anyway. Remembering something, she looked at Leonard. “I saw Marguerite in town the other evening. I didn’t know it was her at the time. She was watching me from across the street.”

  Leonard gave a nod. “I’ve been talking to Marguerite about having you come into the house. I wanted to be sure she was okay with it. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t appear anyway, but I wanted to know she was okay if someone else knew she was here.”

  Lin touched Leonard’s arm. “I’m so happy I don’t have to hide this from you anymore.”

  “And I’m glad you know about Marguerite.”

  Lin glanced over to the table by the window. “You gave Marguerite a sailor’s valentine?”

  “Yeah, for her birthday.”

  Lin spent the next forty minutes telling Leonard about the old ghost, G. W. Weeks, the scallop shell piles, and the sailor’s valentine she had recently purchased.

  “You’ve got a lot on your plate, Coffin,” Leonard said, causing Lin to chuckle.

  “Too much sometimes,” she told him.

  Leonard got up to get the valentine he’d given to his wife and carried it over for Lin to see. “This one doesn’t have any weird powers like the one you bought. It doesn’t glow in the dark or show up in unexpected places.”

  Lin ran her hand over the glass cover of the valentine admiring the beautiful shellwork. “It’s magnificent.”

  “It cost me an arm and a leg, but when we were in the store and I saw Marguerite’s face when she saw the thing, I knew I had to get it for her.” Leonard’s face looked sad. “It was the last gift I ever gave her.”

  He coughed and cleared his throat. “See here.” He pointed to the top at the back of the valentine. “Some valentines have a little slit to store a photograph or a note in. Sometimes the receiver of the valentine kept a photo of the loved one who gave her the gift in this little slot. Anyway, that’s what the store owner told me when I bought it.”

  “Did Marguerite put a picture inside?” Lin asked.

  “Yeah.” Leonard used the tip of his finger to pull the photo out. It was a photograph of the couple on their wedding day.

  Lin smiled when she saw the picture of Marguerite in her wedding dress and Leonard in a suit. “Oh, you both look wonderful.”

  “That was a long, long time ago.” Leonard looked wistfully at the photo.

  Something pinged in Lin’s brain. As she jumped to her feet, she handed the photograph back to Leonard and said with excitement, “I think Marguerite’s valentine just presented me with a clue.”

  Viv was stand
ing in front of Lin’s house when the truck came around the corner and pulled into the driveway.

  “I just got here,” Viv said. “Mallory’s watching the store for me. What’s up? What do you want me for?”

  Unlocking the front door, Lin explained what happened when she went to pick up Leonard at his house. Viv stood in front of her cousin with her mouth open.

  “He let you in?” Viv was thunderstruck. “You saw Marguerite?”

  “It was Marguerite who was staring at me from the corner of the street in town the other night.”

  Viv’s hand had flown to her throat. “I can’t believe it. No wonder Leonard keeps people out of the house. Well, I suppose that isn’t necessary since you’re the only person I’ve ever met who could see a ghost, but it makes sense now. Leonard didn’t want anyone sensing a ghost in his house. Wow. His wife stays with him? That’s amazing.” Viv looked at Lin. “But is it a good thing?”

  “How do you mean?” Lin asked.

  “You know.” Viv glanced around the kitchen as if she thought a spirit might be lurking and listening. “Marguerite doesn’t cross over. She stays here. Isn’t that kind of like being in a state of limbo for her?”

  Lin gave a helpless shrug. “I have no idea. Maybe she’s waiting for Leonard to cross with her.”

  “Oh.” The uncomfortable topic caused Viv to wring her hands together. “I didn’t think of that.” Her eyes narrowed in thought. “Does it make Leonard happy to have his wife’s ghost in the house?”

  “I think so.” Lin led the way into the kitchen. “Wouldn’t it?”

  “I just wondered. He would never remarry with Marguerite still around, but having her ghost there might be hard. She can’t converse with him. He can’t go anywhere with her. He can’t talk about her with other people. He can’t kiss her or hug her or hold her. It makes me sad to think about it.”

  Lin put her keys to her truck on the island and frowned. “I didn’t think of it that way. I don’t know. Leonard seems happy.”

  “At least now you know why he was so odd about keeping you out of his house.”

  Lin gave a nod. “You should see the house. It’s gorgeous inside, like something in an architectural or design magazine. Anyway,” she looked over to the hutch to be sure the valentine was in its place, “Leonard gave Marguerite a sailor’s valentine as a gift and he showed me that some of them have a little slit in the top to keep a photograph or a memento in it. Some people keep a picture of a loved one inside, others keep a note of love from a boyfriend or husband.”

  “You’re going to see if there’s a place to put an insert in the one you bought?” Viv asked.

  “Yes.” Lin looked warily at the valentine. “I wanted you to be with me.” Shifting her eyes to her cousin, she said, “It scares me.”

  “What does? Finding something inside?”

  Lin admitted, “The valentine scares me.”

  A worried expression washed over Viv’s face. “Why? Why does it scare you?” She looked over at the object like it might fly through the air and strike her. “Did it do something to you?”

  “No.” Lin moved her hand around trying to dismiss her concerns. “It’s just that it shows up in places, at the Whaling Museum, on top of the shell piles. It startles me. And sometimes, it glows. And remember how it was so hot when I first bought it that it felt like it might burn my skin?”

  “I remember.” Eyeing the object, Viv took a step back. “Do you think it will blow up or something if you look for a slit in the top?”

  Lin looked at her cousin with horror. “Blow up?”

  Viv said, “Maybe you should call Anton and have him look at it.”

  “I don’t want to put Anton in any danger.”

  “Well, what about me?” Viv asked, her hand on her hip. “Are you putting me in danger?”

  “You’re supposed to be the one who calms me down, not makes me more frightened of the thing.” Lin’s cheeks had lost a bit of their healthy color.

  Trying to keep her voice steady and encouraging, Viv put her hand on Lin’s back and gave a little push. “Go ahead. Nothing will happen. It’s just a sailor’s valentine. Go have a look.”

  Lin made eye contact with Viv, sucked in a deep breath, and knowing there really wasn’t any choice, threw her shoulders back and strode with purpose over to the hutch. Lifting her hands to grasp the object, she hesitated for a moment, and then took hold of the valentine and removed it from the shelf. When she carried it to the kitchen island and set it down, Viv looked at it apprehensively.

  “Don’t make me nervous,” Lin chided her cousin.

  Lin ran her hands over the glass cover and around the wooden box.

  “Is it hot?” Viv looked like she might dart from the room.

  “No, its normal.” Lin carefully moved her hands over the edges of the wood trying to find a place where a photo could be slipped in. “Nothing on this part.” She turned the valentine to better see the other side, checked the edges, and then looked up at Viv with a wide smile. “There’s a space here to slip something inside … and there’s something in it.”

  Lin used her finger to gently slide out a piece of paper. When it emerged from its hiding place, she unfolded the old, yellowed, slightly brittle paper. “A note.”

  Her eyes raced over the words and said to her cousin, “Viv. Come see this.”

  Lin read the words of the note out loud.

  June 1836.

  My name is George W. Weeks. I lost my beloved wife in childbirth two years ago. My infant son died with her. I have been distraught since that day. My dear friend, Robert Ward, came to visit me recently. We had drinks in the upstairs den. An argument ensued between us and we both said things we did not mean to utter. I threw the bottle of whiskey at Robert. In anger, he rushed away to the back staircase. I did not see what happened, but my dearest friend fell down the flight of stairs. When I reached him, he was at the bottom, dead. I did not know what to do. If I alerted the authorities, I was sure they would think I pushed Robert down the stairs intending to kill him.

  In my panic and impaired state from too much drink, I put Robert’s body in the wagon and drove in the darkness to the fishery lot by the harbor. I buried Robert there at the edge of the tree line. My dear friend. I am so sorry.

  Lin looked at Viv. “It was an accident. Weeks didn’t kill Robert Ward. He wants us to find him. He must want Ward to have a proper burial.”

  Viv reached out and touched the valentine. “That’s why Weeks wanted you to buy the valentine, so you’d find the note and uncover the body. Weeks can’t cross over because he hid his friend’s body down by the harbor. Maybe Ward can’t cross over until someone finds him.”

  “I’m going to call Anton,” Lin said. “He’ll need to help us explain all of this to the police.”

  When she crossed the kitchen to pick up her phone, movement on the deck caught Lin’s eye and cold air whooshed around her.

  G. W. Weeks stood outside holding his cane with his two hands. He stared at Lin through the window. They made eye contact for a few moments and then he nodded and tipped his tweed cap to the young woman.

  A second later, his atoms glittered, broke apart, swirled in the air, and faded away.

  25

  It took over ten days, but finally the remains of Robert Ward were located and uncovered by authorities. DNA tests were scheduled to be performed in order to match the man to his descendants, but the results would not be reported for weeks.

  Lin was not in attendance when the man was found. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t bring herself to stand by the scallop shell mounds and wait for Mr. Ward to be uncovered. Whenever Lin thought she should go see what was happening, terrible sadness washed over her and acted like a roadblock to keep her from heading to the site.

  “It’s okay,” Viv told her. “You figured out the clues, put the puzzle together, and helped both Weeks and Ward achieve a measure of peace. You don’t need to be present while they dig. You need a break from all t
his. Anton is there. He’ll report back to us.”

  Anton was at the shell lot by the harbor each day during the search for the body and did indeed keep them informed of the progress. “I have to admit my heart ached when the discovery was finally made. Poor Mr. Ward, lost and forgotten and alone for all of those years.”

  Lin’s heart had also ached for George Weeks who, for nearly two hundred years, had carried the grief and regret of what he’d done in haste and from the fear of being accused of his friend’s death.

  “It’s been set right now.” Anton had patted Lin’s hand. “Thanks to you and your skills.”

  A belated thirtieth birthday party for Lin and Viv was held at a restaurant down at the docks. A small, separate room with a private deck had been set aside for the family and friends to celebrate, and the festivities began with drinks and appetizers outside on the deck just as the sun was setting over Nantucket harbor. Swishes and streaks of violet and pink were painted over the blue sky and the air was warm and dry.

  Viv and John, Lin and Jeff, Libby and Anton, Leonard, and several other friends gathered to toast the three decades that each young woman had lived. Nicky and Queenie strolled around the deck amongst the people gathering pats and head rubs.

  “Three decades?” Viv moaned. “Gosh. A third of my life is over.”

  “That’s if you’re lucky enough to live to be ninety,” Anton told her. “Otherwise, you’ve already lived more than a third of your life.”

  Viv stared open-mouthed at the historian. “Oh, gosh.”

  “We’re supposed to be celebrating our birthdays.” Lin hugged her cousin. “Not bemoaning the passing of time.”

  “How can we avoid it?” Viv pouted. “Birthdays push it right in your face.”

  “Be proud of your age,” Libby told Viv. “All we can do is live each day well.”

  “Thirty, though,” Viv said. “It sounds so old.”