The Ghost Who Was Says I Do

by Anna J. McIntyre

  Rachel studied Walt a moment before responding. “You’ve lived here since your accident, haven’t you?”

  “Technically speaking, I lived here several weeks before the accident, but I don’t remember that time. Why do you ask?”

  “Have you ever noticed anything—umm—odd in the house?” Rachel asked.

  Walt frowned. “Odd how?”

  “Like objects moving on their own?” Rachel asked.

  Walt smiled. “Can you give me an example.”

  “I’m not crazy. Claudia says I’m imagining things, but I swear I saw that cat figurine in our room fall to the floor—but before it got there, it went back on the shelf. And then right before my sister came back with the food, I saw a piece of paper floating in the air.”

  “Really?”

  Rachel scowled. “You think I’m crazy.” She took an angry bite of her burger.

  “No, I don’t. You’re not the first person to claim to have seen unusual activity in Marlow House. You know—some say it’s haunted.”

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  “No,” Walt said seriously. “A number of people have claimed the house is haunted.”

  “I suggested that to Claudia, and she thought I was being silly.”

  “You do know a number of people have been murdered in that house?” Walt glanced over to Marlow House and felt a twinge of hypocrisy, which he immediately dismissed. There was a time he would have been offended at someone exploiting the events that had transpired under his roof—no matter how true, especially when it came to his own death. One change he noticed about himself since rejoining this side, he wasn’t as sensitive about his death as he had once been.

  Rachel’s eyes widened. “Murdered? Who was murdered?”

  “I’m surprised you don’t know. Most of our guests are familiar with the house’s history before they even check in. Everything is online.”

  “Our guests? You talk as if you’re already married to Danielle Boatman and this is your house.”

  Walt shrugged. “I am related to the original owners—and my name is Marlow—so I suppose I do feel a sense of ownership.”

  Upstairs, Dirk stood at the bedroom window and looked out at the side yard. He watched Walt and Rachel, who sat together under a large tree. He wondered what they could be talking about. Sitting at the dressing table was his wife, Tanya, who was busy applying makeup and fixing her hair so they could go out to dinner. On the bed Marie sat quietly, waiting for them to say something she might find useful. So far, their conversation had been painfully boring and unhelpful.

  “What are you looking at?” Tanya asked as she studied her reflection while running a brush through her hair.

  “Clint is outside with Claudia’s sister; they’re talking.” Standing with arms akimbo, Dirk continued to stare out the window.

  “If Clint really has amnesia, what are you going to do?” Tanya asked.

  “We spend the week refreshing his memory.”

  “And if he doesn’t remember?”

  “It would be easier for me if he remembers. But ultimately it really doesn’t matter if he remembers or not. I’ll simply show him the file.”

  “Remember what?” Marie asked, frustrated that they weren’t elaborating.

  “If you’re going to take a shower before you go, you should probably do that now,” Tanya told her husband.

  Once Dirk left the room to shower, Marie saw no reason to stick around. If Danielle was able to find Eva, she might be following Dirk and his wife to the restaurant to eavesdrop, or perhaps they would want her to stay close to Claudia and her sister. But first—she needed to try for that marriage license again.

  Just as Claudia opened her bedroom door, she spied Dirk going into the bathroom. He didn’t see her. He carried a change of clothes, and she assumed he was planning to take a shower. What she didn’t see was Marie, who stood inches away in the open doorway, about to enter her bedroom.

  Walking through Marie, Claudia stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind her, locking it. She then headed downstairs.

  Shivering over the unpleasant sensation of Claudia stomping through her illusion—more a mental than physical unpleasantness—Marie shook it off and was somewhat appeased by the fact Claudia hadn’t been carrying a purse. Marie smiled and thought, She must have left it in the bedroom. A moment later Marie walked through the door into the bedroom, in search of the marriage license.

  In the bathroom, Dirk had just finished unbuttoning his shirt when he realized he had left his shaving kit in the bedroom. Cursing the oversight, he hastily rebuttoned the shirt and made his way back to the bedroom to retrieve the shaving kit.

  A few minutes later, on the return to the bathroom, movement down the hallway caught his eye. He stopped walking and looked to the source of the movement. At first he thought it was a mouse or some rodent scurrying along by the baseboard. It appeared to be a flash of white. But when he looked closer, he realized it was not a mouse—it was a folded piece of paper.

  He assumed someone had simply dropped the paper, and a draft was now blowing it down the hallway. Intending to go pick it up, he stopped suddenly when the paper took a sudden right turn and flew under the door to Danielle’s bedroom, as if it had been sucked into the room by some invisible force.

  Twenty

  Danielle wanted to get to the museum before it closed for the evening. Yet, even if she did arrive before they locked their doors, there was no guarantee Eva would still be there. On the drive over she had called Chris to let him know she needed to talk to Eva. These days, the spirit didn’t stray far from Chris. According to him, he had seen her that morning, and when she showed up again, he promised he would give her Danielle’s message.

  Stepping into the museum, Danielle was greeted by Millie Samson, who was on docent duty.

  “You’re here rather late,” the elderly woman greeted Danielle. “Did you need to talk to me about something?”

  “No. I was just in the neighborhood, and I thought I’d stop by and see the portraits before you closed,” Danielle lied. “Chris mentioned there had been some changes to the exhibit.”

  “I must say, the portraits have been a boom for the museum. Ben would be so happy,” Millie said with a sigh.

  “At least he got to see the display open,” Danielle reminded her.

  “True. But it really is not the same without him. Ben is sorely missed.”

  “Yes, he is. He was a big part of the historical society.” Danielle tried to be pleasant, but she wasn’t sure she would ever feel the same about the members of the historical society board again, including Millie. It wasn’t that she blamed them for their ancestors’ sins, but she was deeply disappointed they had gone to such lengths to rewrite their history.

  Millie nodded to the main section of the museum. “There’s someone back there now, looking at the portraits. If you’ll excuse me, I need to do something in the gift shop.”

  When Danielle arrived at the new section of the museum, which had been built to house the Bonnet exhibit, she found whom she was looking for. Eva sat perched atop her portrait, dressed in the same outfit she had worn when sitting for the painting. Unfortunately, she was not alone. Standing nearby, looking at the portrait of Walt Marlow, was a short little balding man Danielle had never seen before. Eva waved gaily at Danielle and, when doing so, sent pink snowflakes into the air. They floated down and disappeared before hitting the floor.

  Hearing Danielle approach, the man looked her way.

  “Hello,” Danielle greeted the man. “Are you a fan of Jacque Jehan Bonnet?”

  “Who is that?” the man asked with a frown.

  Eva rolled her eyes and looked to Danielle. “He has been standing there for ten minutes cursing at that portrait.”

  Danielle frowned at Eva’s comment yet said nothing. After all, the man could neither see nor hear Eva. She looked back to him and said, “That’s the name of the artist.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t really
care about art. But I read about this portrait online, and I had to see it for myself.”

  Afraid Eva might decide to leave before she could talk to her, Danielle said, “I’m looking for my friend Eva. She was supposed to meet me here. You haven’t seen another woman in here, have you?”

  “You need to talk to me?” Eva asked.

  Danielle nodded at the ghost and then glanced back to the man.

  “Just the woman who works here,” the man said, staring intently at the painting.

  “May I ask why you’re so interested in that portrait?” Danielle asked.

  “It looks just like someone I know,” the man said. “I still can’t believe how much it looks like him.”

  “Really?” Danielle studied the man a moment. He continued to be mesmerized by the portrait. “You’re not from Frederickport, are you?”

  The man shook his head. “No. I’m not.”

  Before Danielle could ask him another question, he turned abruptly and left the exhibit.

  “Such an odd little man,” Eva said as she floated down from the portrait and landed her feet on the floor.

  “I wonder who he knows that looks like Walt,” Danielle muttered, looking to where the man had just walked off to.

  “Clint of course,” Eva said.

  Danielle looked to Eva. “Clint? He knew Clint?”

  “I have to assume so. When ranting at the portrait, he kept calling it Clint. I don’t think they were friends.”

  Danielle let out a sigh. “What is going on? The last few days people from Clint’s past keep popping up!”

  Eva shrugged. “That was inevitable. Especially with all the publicity Walt has been receiving. If anyone knows what it’s like to live in the limelight, it’s me!” Eva threw out her arms dramatically, and in doing so bursts of light filled the room, reminding Danielle of camera lightbulbs flashing.

  Danielle blinked her eyes, certain she was going to be seeing white flashes for the next hour. She suddenly missed the glitter. Maybe it did play havoc with her coffee, but flashing lights were more annoying.

  “Now what did you need?” Eva asked.

  “Can you come home with me, and I’ll explain in the car on the way over?”

  “Certainly.”

  “You didn’t happen to catch that man’s name, or where he’s staying?” Danielle asked.

  “No, but Millie brought him in to the exhibit, so I assume they may have chatted before he got here. I didn’t hear their conversation. Right after she brought him to the exhibit, the phone rang in the back office, and she went to answer it. That’s when he started ranting at the painting—when he thought he was alone.”

  “In his rants, what did he say exactly?” Danielle asked.

  Eva shrugged. “He said he couldn’t believe there were two of them, that one was too many, and that he was a snake oil salesman.”

  “Umm…no, I guess they weren’t friends. Anything more specific, like why he thought Clint was a snake oil salesman?”

  “Sorry, that was about it. Although I can understand his sentiment. Clint was running a scam on your Bonnets.”

  “Hmmm. Why don’t I meet you in my car? I want to ask Millie something before I leave.”

  A few minutes later Danielle found Millie in the gift shop, preparing to shut down for the day.

  “The exhibit is impressive, isn’t it?” Millie asked when Danielle stepped up to the counter.

  “Yes, it is. I was wondering, do you know who that man was who just left here?” Danielle asked.

  Millie glanced up. “A tourist. He mentioned he was staying at the Seahorse Motel. Why?”

  “Nothing really. He just looked rather familiar,” Danielle lied.

  “We had a nice chat, and he introduced himself. His name is Albert Hanson. Is that name familiar?” Millie asked.

  Danielle shook her head. “Umm, no…it’s not familiar.”

  “He’s a good example of how the Bonnet exhibit has attracted new visitors to the museum.”

  “How do you mean?” Danielle asked.

  “The Bonnet exhibit was the only thing he was interested in seeing. He told me he saw the portraits online, and since he was here for the week, he wanted to see them in person. He must be a Bonnet fan.”

  “Did he tell you that?” Danielle asked.

  “No, but I have to assume. Of course, he might just be a fan of fine art. Either way, it’s all good for the museum.”

  On the way home from the museum, Danielle picked up Chinese food for her and Walt. When she arrived back at Marlow House with Eva, Dirk’s car was nowhere in sight, but Claudia’s vehicle was parked out front. Danielle took the food up to the attic while Eva went into Claudia and Rachel’s room to eavesdrop. According to Walt, Marie had tagged along with Dirk and his wife in hopes of learning why they were really in Frederickport.

  Danielle sat at Walt’s computer with a carton of chow mein, eating it with chopsticks while doing a little online sleuthing. Sitting next to the computer on the desk was the marriage license Marie had managed to lift. Danielle and Walt inspected the license, yet didn’t learn anything new.

  “What are you hoping to find now?” Walt asked from where he sat on a nearby chair, a plate of Chinese food in one hand, a pair of chopsticks in the other.

  “I’d like to find out more about our guests, but first I want to see if I can find something about that man I ran into at the museum. I can’t believe all the people from Clint’s past popping up right now. I suppose any of them could have sent you that letter.”

  She searched quietly for a few minutes and then said, “Nothing. I even searched images for Albert Hanson. Nothing comes up that looks remotely like the man in the museum. Let me search our guests now. Since they’re both real estate agents, I’m sure they have some online presence.” A moment later the results popped up. Danielle quickly clicked through the links. After opening the second webpage, she said, “Marie was right.”

  Walt looked up. “What did you find?”

  “Dirk Thorpe works for the same brokerage Clint worked for before coming to Oregon.”

  “How long has he worked there?” Walt asked.

  “According to this website, it looks like he’s been there over ten years. He’s an associate broker. Why didn’t he just come out and say he knew you? Doesn’t he know there’s a good chance I might Google my guests to learn more about them? And then I would know he lied about knowing you.”

  “He didn’t lie exactly. He didn’t say whether he knew Clint or not,” Walt reminded her. “Anything else interesting?”

  “Not really. Let me Google Claudia now.”

  A moment later Danielle said, “Maybe she and Clint started at the same brokerage, but it looks like they haven’t worked for the same real estate company for a few years. According to her webpage, she has been with her current broker for over five years. Both she and Dirk are active real estate agents.”

  Eva thought she was going to die of boredom. Which was of course redundant, considering she was already dead. Yawning dramatically, she reclined on an imaginary chaise lounge, floating in midair over the dresser while smoking a cigarette held in a long bejeweled cigarette holder. To ward off the boredom, she tried blowing smoke rings.

  Rachel, who sat on her bed quietly reading Moon Runners, looked up and wrinkled her nose. “I thought this place was nonsmoking?”

  Claudia, who lounged on her bed, reading a magazine, looked up and sniffed. “Someone is smoking.”

  Rachel jumped up from the bed and ran to the door. “I hope it isn’t a fire!” She opened the door and stuck her nose out in the hallway and sniffed. A moment later she pulled her head back in the room and shut the door. “It’s just in here.”

  “Someone must have smoked in here. I hate that.” Claudia closed her magazine and tossed it on the end of the bed.

  Hearing the discussion, Eva arched her brows. With a snap of her fingers, the cigarette and the smell vanished. “I’m rather impressed with myself. They actually noti
ced it!”

  Claudia sniffed the air again. “I don’t smell it anymore.”

  “Weird.” Rachel closed her book and looked to her sister. “What are you going to do tomorrow? Just hang around and wait for Clint to do what you want? And now with Dirk here, sheesh, maybe we should just go home.”

  “I was thinking about that.” Claudia jumped up and walked to the dresser where she had set her purse. She opened it. “Maybe I’ll just show this to Danielle.”

  “The license?”

  “Where is it?” Frantically, Claudia took her purse to the bed and dumped out all its contents.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I put the marriage license in my purse, and it’s gone!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure! Look yourself!”

  Rachel got up from her bed and walked to Claudia’s. “Calm down. It didn’t just walk away—” Rachel froze at her own words and looked down at the contents of Claudia’s purse strewn all over the bed.

  “No, it didn’t walk away. Someone took it! I bet Clint stole it!”

  Rachel considered her sister’s accusation for a moment. Finally, she said, “Claudia, Clint couldn’t have taken it. Clint was downstairs in the backyard until Danielle came home. You were already up here in the bedroom. He would have had to have taken it while you were in the room.”

  Claudia stood silently, considering her sister’s words. After a few moments of silent pondering, her eyes widened and she looked to the closed bedroom door. “Dirk!”

  “Dirk?” Rachel frowned.

  “The only people upstairs who could’ve taken it were Dirk or his wife. They were the only ones up here. Damn him. He stole the marriage license! This is not good!”

  Twenty-One

  While Rachel and Claudia slept, Marie returned the marriage license to Claudia’s purse. Danielle didn’t feel it necessary to keep the original after making a copy of it, and she didn’t want to cause a problem with Claudia when she noticed it missing. She had no idea if it was real, and despite her attempt to Google for the answer, she found nothing conclusive.