The Ghost Who Dream Hopped Read online

  The Ghost Who Dream Hopped

  (Haunting Danielle, Book 18)

  A Novel

  By Bobbi Holmes

  Cover Design: Elizabeth Mackey

  * * *

  Copyright © 2018 Bobbi Holmes

  Robeth Publishing, LLC

  All Rights Reserved.

  robeth.net

  * * *

  This novel is a work of fiction.

  Any resemblance to places or actual persons,

  living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  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 of Christmas Secrets

  Haunting Danielle Newsletter

  Haunting Danielle Series

  Bobbi Holmes

  Unlocked Hearts Series

  The Coulson Series

  Also by Bobbi Ann Johnson Holmes

  Dedicated with love to our sweet Lady girl.

  If she decides to haunt me, I will gladly welcome her.

  One

  Danielle Boatman curled up under the blankets and closed her eyes. The last five weeks had been emotionally draining. It had begun with Clint Marlow’s unpleasant stay at Marlow House and then the car accident, which had claimed the life of Clint’s fiancée and had left him in a coma.

  From there things veered into the twilight zone. Now when she woke up each morning, the first thing she asked herself—was it all real? A week after the fateful accident it was Walt whom she had brought home from the hospital. Walt in his cousin Clint’s body. She was still surprised when she realized it hadn’t been a dream.

  Danielle had foolishly imagined they would have a week or so to ease into their new reality without bed-and-breakfast guests underfoot. What she hadn’t counted on was what had happened after Walt came home. In the span of one week Marlow House had been broken into three times. There had been two murders—one that took place under her roof—and she and Walt almost got locked into a crate and set on fire.

  But now all the guilty parties were behind bars—or under surveillance, and they had a couple of days left before the next round of bed-and-breakfast guests arrived. She was determined to get a good night’s sleep so she and Walt could enjoy a few quiet days together.

  Restless, Danielle sat up briefly and rearranged her pillow, giving it several quick punches to reform its shape. Just before setting her head back on the pillow, she hugged a second one and turned to her right side. Pulling up her knees, she curled into a fetal position.

  The room was not totally dark. Light from the near full moon slipped in through the partially open blinds. Max slept on the foot of the bed. Danielle could hear him snoring. Closing her eyes, she let out a sigh and tried to clear her mind. All she wanted to do was sleep. It took only minutes before she accomplished her goal.

  Danielle had been asleep for not more than ten minutes when her eyes flew open. She was no longer in the comfort of her bed but sitting outside on the edge of her roof, looking over her side yard while the full moon lit the night sky.

  “This can’t be happening,” Danielle groaned.

  “It’s a dream. You’re perfectly safe.”

  She turned toward the voice and found a man sitting next to her on the edge of the roof. She recognized him immediately. It had been about a year since she had last seen him, and he hadn’t changed. Of course, the last time she had seen him had been shortly after his death, and spirits only aged if they wanted to. Considering Steve Klein’s hair was not gray—as was his natural color—it was obvious he dyed his hair in the afterlife, as he had when he had been alive. Although technically speaking, Danielle didn’t think he actually dyed his hair—more that he willed it a darker shade.

  At death he had been in his early fifties and the manager of the local bank. He had left behind his widow, Beverly, and two grown children. He had also left behind his most recent mistress, Carla, the waitress who worked at Pier Café. While it wasn’t exactly common knowledge that Steve was a serial cheater, Danielle knew.

  She reminded herself that Steve had always been nice to her. And thankfully, he had never hit on her, for which she was grateful. But she was trying to figure out why he had come to her in a dream hop. She had no doubt this was a dream hop.

  “Steve, what are you doing here?”

  He smiled at her. “Hello, Danielle. Surprised to see me?”

  “You could say that. Why are you here?”

  Steve laughed. “You know what this is, don’t you?”

  “Yes. A dream hop. But why?”

  “Dream hop?” He smiled again. “I like that. Did you come up with that term?”

  “Yes. Ghostly antics don’t come with a guidebook. I have to call them something.”

  “I’m no longer a ghost. I moved on a long time ago,” Steve explained. “But I heard through the grapevine that the ghost who was living at Marlow House took up residence in his cousin’s body. How is that working out?”

  “How did you know that?” Danielle asked.

  Steve shrugged. “Once you get settled on the other side, it’s amazing what you find out. But I can’t get into that. Against the rules, you know. So how’s it working for him?”

  “Did you just pop in to find out about Walt?”

  Steve leaned back lazily, his elbows resting against the shingles. “Don’t you think it would be rather rude to jump into someone’s dream after not seeing her for a year and just come out and ask her for a favor? I just thought I’d ask a few polite questions about Walt Marlow—break the ice, so to speak—before I tell you why I’m here.”

  Narrowing her eyes, Danielle studied Steve for a moment. Finally, she said, “Walt’s doing fine. Thank you for asking. Now what is it you want from me?”

  “I need you to help me convince Beverly to admit what she did. I understand I brought this on myself. I wasn’t the best of husbands. But she needs to take responsibility for her actions.”

  “What in the world are you talking about?”

  Steve sat up and turned to Danielle. “I forgot, you don’t know.”

  “I don’t know what?”

  “Beverly. She was the one responsible for putting crabmeat in my tamales. My wife killed me.”

  Danielle’s eyes widened. “No, Baron Huxley put the crabmeat into your tamales!”

  Steve shook his head. “No, he didn’t. Baron did a lot of unscrupulous things in his life—which he is still paying for—but killing me wasn’t one of them.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. To Bev’s credit, she never intended to kill me. She just wanted to punish me for my…well…I wasn’t the most loyal of husbands.”

  “No. You weren’t.”

  “And haven
’t I paid for it? Just look at me.” Steve’s hands gestured toward his chest. “I’m dead. Cut down in my prime. Fell off a pier. Most undignified. All because of some crabmeat and an unfortunate tumble into the ocean.”

  “How do you know it was Beverly?”

  “I just know. Trust me on this.”

  “Why now? You’ve been dead for a year.”

  “I didn’t figure it out until recently. When I finally confirmed it, I knew what I had to do. It’s for Bev’s own good.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to help me convince her to go to the police. Confess her crime. It wasn’t premeditated murder or anything, so she’ll probably just spend a little time behind bars.”

  Danielle frowned. “Seriously? You expect me to do that?”

  “Of course.” Steve flashed Danielle a smile.

  “Why me?”

  “For one thing, you’re the only one I know who I could visit like this and wouldn’t just assume this was an ordinary dream.”

  “Why don’t you visit Beverly in a dream and convince her to turn herself in,” Danielle suggested.

  “I intend to do that. But I still need you.”

  “I don’t understand why.” Danielle didn’t think it was possible to push Steve off the roof, but if it was, she was sorely tempted to give him a shove. He was messing up her plans for a restful night’s sleep.

  “If I visit Beverly alone, she’ll just wake up the next morning believing she had a dream about me. A guilt dream. Doesn’t mean she’ll actually do anything about it.”

  “So how do I figure in?”

  “After you wake up in the morning, you can call Beverly. Tell her you need to talk to her. And when you do, you can tell her what you know about the dream—about what she did. After you explain, she’ll understand it wasn’t an ordinary dream, that I really did visit her, and she’ll realize she has to turn herself in to the police.”

  Before Danielle could respond, the moon flickered and another person appeared on the other side of Steve. It was more a silhouette, and Danielle couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman. She leaned forward to get a better look, peering across Steve’s body—or the illusion of his body. As she eyed the shadowy figure, the moon shifted slightly, casting light over the new arrival. It reminded Danielle of how a spotlight in a theater transforms a faceless actor into a pivotal character onstage, putting the performer front and center. The new arrival was Beverly. She wore a nightgown, and she was obviously confused.

  “Where am I?” Beverly muttered. She glanced around and let out a curse when she realized she was sitting on a rooftop. Momentarily panicked, she tried scooting backward, away from the edge, her feet bare, and her nightgown hiking up along the calves of her legs.

  “Relax, Beverly, it’s a dream,” Danielle told her. “You’re safe.”

  Beverly turned toward Danielle’s voice but found herself looking into the face of her dead husband.

  “Steve?” she gasped. Her gaze moved over Steve’s shoulder. She spied Danielle sitting on the other side of him on the rooftop. Danielle leaned forward and gave her a nervous wave.

  “Hello, Bev. Happy to see me?” Steve asked with a grin.

  Beverly glared at Steve. “Not particularly.”

  Danielle grimaced at Beverly’s reply.

  “It’s been a year, Bev. Don’t you miss me?” he asked gently.

  “Why are you here?” Beverly asked.

  “I know what you did. So does Danielle. You put crabmeat in my tamales and then removed my epinephrine auto-injector from my tackle box.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Beverly reminded him.

  “I’m here to explain that you need to turn yourself in to the police.”

  Danielle tried pinching herself. She wanted to wake up. She didn’t want to be here.

  “Why would I do that?” Beverly frowned.

  “Because you did something wrong. You need to take responsibility.”

  When the pinch didn’t work, Danielle leaned toward the edge of the rooftop and wondered what would happen if she jumped. Would that wake her up?

  “Like you took responsibility each time you cheated on me?”

  “I was wrong; I know that now,” Steve said, his voice annoyingly calm. “This is for your own good.”

  To Danielle’s ears it sounded as if he were attempting to reason with a child. She wondered if he had always spoken to Beverly like that. If he had, she wondered why Beverly hadn’t slipped him crabmeat sooner.

  Steve turned to Danielle and said, “Tell her, Danielle. Explain to her why she needs to go to the police.”

  Danielle shrugged uncomfortably. “I hate to get between a husband and wife. This really is between the two of you to work out.”

  Beverly leaned forward and looked across Steve to Danielle. “Thank you. I’m glad you see it that way.”

  Danielle flashed Beverly a weak smile and then contemplated screaming. She had learned how to make herself scream when sleeping. It was one way to jerk herself from a dream hop. But then she remembered Max sleeping on the foot of her bed. Would the scream scare the cat and send him charging downstairs to wake Walt?

  “Bev, please, listen to me. You need to do this. It’s for your own good,” Steve insisted.

  “I don’t have to do anything you say. You’re dead.” Beverly grinned at him.

  “Certainly you regret what you did?” Steve asked.

  Beverly shrugged. “Not particularly. It all worked out rather well.”

  “Listen to me,” Steve said impatiently.

  Before Steve could say another word, Beverly reached out and gave him a quick shove. He let out a scream as he tumbled off the roof, disappearing before he hit the ground.

  Both Danielle and Beverly leaned forward and looked down. Danielle’s eyes widened in surprise while Beverly grinned happily at how easily she had dispensed of her husband—for the second time.

  “I didn’t know that was possible,” Danielle muttered under her breath.

  “You didn’t know what was possible?” Beverly asked.

  “To push him off the roof like that.”

  “I don’t see why not.” Beverly turned her full attention to Danielle and gave her a smile—a smile that didn’t make Danielle particularly comfortable. She looked warily at Beverly.

  “I suppose I have to do something about you,” Beverly said with a sigh.

  “Umm…what do you mean?”

  “I certainly can’t have you blabbing now that you know my secret.”

  Before she could ask Beverly what she meant, the woman reached out and gave her a push, sending her tumbling off the rooftop.

  Danielle woke up on the floor next to her bed, tangled in her blankets. She looked up and spied Max peering down at her from the edge of the mattress. When their eyes met, he let out a meow. With a groan she stumbled to her feet while picking up her blankets off the floor.

  “I wish I could say it was just a nightmare, Max.”

  Two

  Danielle tossed and turned for a couple of hours before she could get back to sleep after Beverly had so rudely shoved her off the roof. When she woke up on Wednesday morning, she found herself alone in her bedroom. Max was no longer there.

  Glancing at the alarm clock on her nightstand, she groaned when she saw it was a few minutes past eight. Grumbling, she stumbled from the bed and stretched, annoyed that she didn’t feel rested. She was tempted to crawl back in bed, but she doubted she could fall asleep again.

  Before heading downstairs, she made her bed and slipped on a pair of skinny jeans and a pullover blouse. The blouse fell to her mid-thigh. Its silky fabric boasted a wild blue and green paisley design, and while it was comfortable fabric for the cooler coastal climate, she wasn’t sure it would be suitable when the temperature or humidity rose. She also washed her face, combed her hair, and put on a touch of makeup.

  The housekeeper, Joanne, wasn’t planning to come in until tomorrow—and the next b
ed-and-breakfast guests weren’t set to arrive until Friday—so Danielle knew she was alone in the house with Walt and Max. At least, she assumed Max was still in the house. It was entirely possible he had slipped out the pet door in the kitchen to wander the yard and neighborhood.

  In the kitchen the inviting aroma of fresh brewed coffee greeted her along with the smiling face of Walt Marlow, who sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper while drinking a cup of coffee and nibbling on a cinnamon roll from Old Salts Bakery.

  He wore a pair of plaid pajama bottoms she had bought him, and a white T-shirt. The pajama bottoms were loose enough that he could slip them on over his cast. She thought he looked rather adorable sitting there at the kitchen table dressed far more casually than she had been used to seeing him. Although, she imagined he would not appreciate the adjective adorable applied to him.

  Walt lifted his mug and gestured to the coffeemaker sitting on the counter. “Good morning, Danielle. I made coffee.”

  “I see.” Danielle flashed him a smile before filling her favorite mug. She found it endearing that Walt had set it by the coffeemaker for her. “Is that a cinnamon roll you’re eating?”

  “There’s one left. I saved it for you.” He nodded to the counter by the sink. Looking in that direction, Danielle spied a cinnamon roll sitting on a plate, covered with plastic wrap.

  Coffee cup in hand Danielle said, “I really shouldn’t eat something sweet first thing in the morning.” She snatched up the plate with her free hand and headed to the table.