The Ghost from the Sea Page 13

  “So the necklace you found had fake gems?” Rowland asked.

  Danielle shook her head. “No. What Walt and Eva didn’t know, her parents had discovered what their ex-son-in-law had done, so they had new diamonds and emeralds put into the setting. I believe they figured out Walt was the one who took the necklace, and why. They didn’t say anything to him, but they left the necklace to him in their will. I suspect it was done to protect Walt, in case he was ever found with the necklace after they were gone. As it turned out, Walt died first and they never changed their will.”

  “You inherited his estate, which included the necklace?” Hillary asked.

  Danielle nodded. “Pretty much. Walt Marlow left everything to his housekeeper, whose daughter married my grandfather’s brother. My great-aunt left everything to me. As for the emerald, I don’t believe I’m necessarily its rightful owner; yet I believe the Thorndikes would approve of the emerald going to the local museum. They have Eva’s portrait there. You’ll see it if you visit today.”

  Danielle sat at the large table in the back office of the museum. Sitting at the table with her were four Frederickport Historical Society board members: Millie Samson, Ben Smith, bank manager Steve Klein—and someone she hadn’t met before, Jolene Carmichael.

  Steve introduced Danielle to Jolene when she first entered the back office. Jolene, a slender woman in her late sixties, with dyed platinum blond hair, sat quietly on the other side of the table, studying Danielle. Instead of standing and offering her hand when Steve made the introductions, Jolene remained seated, giving Danielle a stoic nod in greeting.

  “Jolene just moved back to town,” Millie said excitedly after Danielle had taken her seat. “We were so thrilled she agreed to fill the vacancy in the board. She’ll bring so much to the historical society.”

  Danielle smiled across the table at Jolene, who looked as if she had just stepped out of the beauty shop, with her meticulously coiffed short hair. Manicured nails sporting blood red polish absently tapped the tabletop. It wasn’t the tapping sound that caught Danielle’s attention, it was the sparkling flicker bouncing off Jolene’s many diamond rings. The woman had a ring on every finger—even her thumbs, and Danielle was fairly certain it wasn’t costume jewelry. Looking up from the fidgety fingers, Danielle noted Jolene’s designer silk blouse and diamond earrings. When Danielle’s gaze settled on Jolene’s face, she was a bit taken aback by the cool, less than friendly expression.

  “So, you lived in Frederickport before?” Danielle asked with forced cheerfulness.

  “Jolene comes from one of the original Frederickport pioneer families,” Steve explained.

  “Yes. Her family moved here even before Marie’s,” Millie added.

  Jolene reached over to Millie and patted her hand. “True, but Marie is much older than me, so I suppose technically she’s been here longer.” Jolene smiled, her first smile since her introduction to Danielle.

  “You grew up here?” Danielle asked.

  “Oh yes. Met my husband here. This is where we raised our family. But after he died, I decided to move closer to our daughter. She lives in New York. She’s an attorney, just like her father. But I felt it was time to come home. I missed Frederickport.”

  “And we’re so glad to have you! Seems like most of our members are recent transplants—like Danielle here. It’s good to have representation from the founding families,” Millie said.

  “Carmichael, why does that name sound familiar?” Danielle asked, looking across the table to Jolene.

  “Because my husband, Doug, was Clarence Renton’s business partner.”

  Momentarily speechless, Danielle stared at Jolene. Finally, she asked, “The man in the fishing photographs, in Clarence Renton’s office?”

  Jolene nodded. “Yes, Clarence and Doug loved to fish. They used to joke about giving up their law practice and working on a fishing charter boat.”

  “I forgot how much those two enjoyed fishing,” Steve said.

  “It was such a shame, Clarence murdered like that. People thinking he had actually killed himself.” Jolene shook her head. “Just horrible. I’m so glad the truth finally came out. It wasn’t right for people to think Clarence would do something like that.”

  Danielle could feel the eyes of the other three board members suddenly on her, waiting for her response. She looked across the table to Jolene who seemed oblivious to how her words might sound, considering Danielle and Clarence’s history.

  Unable to keep silent, Danielle spoke up. “I agree, I’m glad the truth came out, and we know who killed Clarence Renton. But let’s not forget the man murdered my cousin.”

  Jolene shook her head, “I’m sorry about your poor cousin. But Clarence was a good man. He was my husband’s best friend. I knew him for years. Whatever happened with your cousin must have been an accident. After all, didn’t I hear your cousin was on the run after stealing the Missing Thorndike, when Clarence happened across her?”

  “It was hardly an accident. Clarence Renton also tried to kill me.”

  Jolene arched her brows. “Kill you? When? I heard you hit the poor man over the head, sent him to the hospital. Didn’t they even arrest you?”

  “Yes, I hit him. After he tried to kill me. And remember, he was embezzling from my aunt’s estate for years.”

  Jolene let out a bored sigh. “I really don’t think it’s fair to talk about dear Clarence this way. The poor man is dead now, murdered. He isn’t here to defend himself.”

  Danielle could feel her blood pressure rising. She glanced around the table, noting the dumbfounded expressions on the other board members’ faces. It was as if they weren’t sure what to say, so they kept quiet.

  Finally, Ben spoke up. “I think we’ll all agree Clarence made some bad choices, and while we understand he was your old friend, Jolene, you can’t expect Danielle to share those feelings.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You never liked Clarence,” Jolene snapped.

  Ben let out a weary sigh. “Clarence and I had our disagreements over the years. But he’s gone now, and I think we should focus on why we came here today. The emerald that Danielle is graciously donating to the museum.”

  “Yes, the emerald,” Steve agreed.

  Danielle glanced around the table. Steve, Millie, and Ben were now smiling, as if relieved the awkward moment had gone by.

  “I have something I’d like to discuss before we move onto the emerald,” Danielle announced.

  “What’s that?” Steve asked.

  “It’s my understanding the historical society’s position on Walt Marlow’s death is that it might have been a suicide, when I’ve clearly proven otherwise,” Danielle reminded.

  “You don’t know that for certain,” Jolene said. “Until my husband died, I had lived in Frederickport for my entire life. I grew up hearing the story of Walt Marlow’s death. How he hung himself in the attic after his wife ran off.”

  “The story wasn’t true,” Danielle insisted.

  “Does it really matter?” Jolene asked.

  “It obviously mattered to you that the world knows Clarence didn’t kill himself,” Danielle countered.

  Jolene gasped. “You certainly aren’t comparing Clarence’s recent death to someone who died almost a hundred years ago!”

  Danielle seethed. “At least Walt Marlow never killed anyone!”

  “Apparently you don’t know as much about the great Walt Marlow as the rest of us,” Jolene hissed. “He killed my grandfather’s brother and wife! Not to mention all those other poor people!”

  “What are you talking about?” Danielle asked.

  “Jolene’s great-uncle, Howard Templeton, and his wife Thelma were passengers aboard the Eva Aphrodite when it went missing. The museum acquired a diary belonging to a close friend of Thelma’s, and from what I’ve read, it’s entirely possible Walt Marlow was responsible for the ship going down,” Ben explained.

  “I don’t imagine you know,” Jolene said primly, “since it
’s not common knowledge, but those people on the boat—they were murdered. Shot in the head, every one of them.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Gripping anger used to make Danielle cry. When debating topics she felt passionate about, tears would swell. It was a trait she loathed—one she had worked years to suppress. Yet now, sitting at the table in the back office of the Frederickport Museum, she battled tears. How could she ever explain her outrage at their slander of her dear friend, Walt Marlow? A man who had died before anyone at this table had even been born.

  Taking a deep breath, Danielle willed herself to calm down. Her heart continued its rapid beating, but the threat of tears receded. Once again, she was in control of her emotions.

  “I guess I’ll have to read that diary myself,” Danielle said with supreme calm.

  “Then you’ll see what I’m saying,” Jolene piped up.

  Ignoring Jolene, Danielle looked at Ben and said, “I’ve decided it would be best if I loan the emerald to the museum for their exhibit.”

  “Loan it? Are you saying you no longer intend to donate it?” Steve asked.

  “I may eventually. Just not now.” Danielle smiled politely.

  Jolene looked from Millie to Ben. “I don’t understand. I thought you said she was donating the emerald, not loaning it.”

  Ben studied Danielle for a moment. When their eyes met, he gave her a smile. “The emerald belongs to Danielle; she’s obviously free to do with it whatever she wants. It’ll be a wonderful exhibit for the museum, even if it’s just on loan. That’s not really so unusual.”

  “Maybe not unusual, but we can hardly purchase land for a new museum with someone else’s emerald,” Jolene snapped. All eyes flashed to her.

  “Excuse me? Who said anything about selling the emerald to buy land?” Danielle asked. “The understanding was the emerald would be on display with the Eva Thorndike portrait.”

  “And it would. But eventually, if we found a buyer for it, I’m sure even Eva Thorndike would rather see the emerald put to better use. If we’re lucky, the buyer might be willing to keep it on display for a while. Displays rotate all the time at museums. Certainly, you didn’t expect the historical society to hold onto the emerald indefinitely, did you?” Jolene asked.

  “Of course we were going to talk to you about it first,” Steve assured her. “We would never accept such a donation without full disclosure of our intentions. In fact, that’s why we’re here today. To discuss what we had in mind for your most generous donation.”

  Millie added, “I know your bed and breakfast is in Walt Marlow’s home, and you have a sense of loyalty to his memory. But we can’t really rewrite history to fit what we wish it was. That would be going against everything the historical society stands for.”

  “I agree,” Danielle said with a nod. “I would never expect the museum to present fairytales to its visitors. But the information I’ve uncovered about Walt Marlow’s death does not support suicide. Talk to Joe Morelli. He reviewed the coroner’s report. Walt Marlow was murdered. Even Emma Jackson verified the fact Walt Marlow’s brother-in-law was in Frederickport when Walt was murdered.”

  “That old colored woman?” Jolene said with a snort. “What is she, 120 or something?”

  “I don’t think they call them colored anymore,” Millie said with a gentle scold.

  “Oh pshaw. Fact is, Emma Jackson had no business living in Oregon back then. Nothing but a lawbreaker. Not someone whose word I’m going to take,” Jolene insisted.

  Danielle noted the uncomfortable glances exchanged between the other board members as they looked from Jolene to Danielle.

  “You aren’t seriously condoning a law that made it illegal for black people to live in Oregon, are you?” Danielle asked incredulously.

  Jolene shrugged indifferently. “I had nothing to do with that law; I wasn’t even born yet. But it was the law at the time, and the fact she was living in Oregon when it was in effect makes her a lawbreaker. It may be unpleasant, but it’s true. Just like with Walt Marlow. Just because you’d rather believe he was murdered than did something as sinful as commit suicide doesn’t change the facts.”

  “No, the facts support murder, not suicide,” Danielle said with forced calm.

  Jolene stood abruptly and looked at Danielle. “I won’t belabor our obvious differences in opinion regarding historical fact and conjecture.” She turned her attention to the other board members. “If Ms. Boatman won’t be donating the emerald to the historical society, I see no reason for me to stay. You certainly don’t need me to confer on a simple loan to the museum. Although, I’m not sure why we spent so much money for a display case for something she can remove at any time.”

  “That was pleasant,” Ben said dryly after Jolene left the office a few minutes later.

  Millie let out a weary sigh. “I forgot how Jolene can be a little difficult sometimes.”

  “I really did not expect it to go this way today,” Steve added. “I don’t know Jolene that well. She moved from Frederickport not long after I moved here. I really thought she’d be an asset to the historical society, considering her ancestors were Frederickport pioneers. But I really was surprised at her defense of Clarence Renton. I’m sorry, Danielle. I had no idea she’d carry on like that.”

  “I have to admit, that surprised me too,” Millie conceded.

  “I wish I could say I was surprised,” Ben confessed. “Fact is, I was a little concerned about what she might say if Clarence was brought up.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Millie asked.

  Ben shrugged in response.

  “I’m not trying to be difficult about the Thorndike emerald,” Danielle spoke up. “I hope you can understand, but I do feel a loyalty toward Walt Marlow, and if the museum portrays him unfairly—then I have to reevaluate my support of the historical society.”

  “Are you saying you won’t support the historical society if you don’t get your way?” Millie asked.

  “Absolutely not. But Millie, you know the facts are there. Walt Marlow did not commit suicide. To tweak the story because you imagine it might increase traffic to the museum is just as wrong as me expecting the museum to alter history because I prefer another version.”

  “To be honest, I think Danielle’s version is more interesting,” Steve spoke up.

  “And what is Danielle’s version?” Millie asked impatiently.

  “That for years everyone believed Marlow killed himself, and then Danielle uncovered new information that suggested Marlow’s wife and brother-in-law conspired to kill him,” Steve explained.

  “But isn’t that what we’re saying?” Millie asked.

  “Not exactly,” Ben admitted. “We have been leaning a bit back to the suicide story—suggesting to our visitors its still an unsolved mystery.”

  “It is,” Millie said stubbornly.

  Danielle shook her head. “No it’s not, Millie.”

  Steve let out a sigh and glanced at his watch. “I really need to get going. I promised my wife I’d finish painting the den.”

  “I need to go too. What did you decide about the emerald?” Millie asked.

  Danielle glanced from Millie to Steve, considering the question.

  Ben stood up. “Why don’t you two go? I’ll stay here and discuss the emerald with Danielle. I think for now it would be best if it was simply on loan with the museum, until Danielle feels more comfortable.”

  “I also have some questions for you about that diary,” Danielle told him.

  “So what do you want to know about the diary?” Ben asked Danielle after Millie and Steve left. The two sat alone in the museum office.

  “Why do you think Walt Marlow killed those people?” Danielle asked. “I can’t believe he would do something like that. You mentioned you read something in the diary that supports that theory. What?”

  “The diary belonged to Ethel Pearson, a close friend of Thelma Templeton,” Ben began. “One of the women who was killed on the Eva Aphrodit
e.”

  “I guess the chief has talked to you about what they found.”

  “Yes. Those people had been shot. Murdered.”

  “Thelma is related to Jolene?”

  “Yes, by marriage. Jolene’s paternal grandfather was Ralph Templeton. Ralph’s brother was Howard Templeton. Howard was married to Thelma. Howard and Thelma were on the Eva Aphrodite when it went down.”

  “What does Ethel’s diary have to do with any of this?”

  “There was an estate sale a few months back. Someone came across the diary, realized its author had lived in Frederickport during the year she wrote in it, so they donated it to the museum.”

  “Certainly Ethel didn’t know Thelma had been murdered.”

  “No. And I didn’t either when I first read the diary. But after Chief MacDonald came into the museum asking about the Eva Aphrodite, I told him about what I’d read in the diary.”

  “Which was?”

  “Ethel suspected Thelma was having an affair. She confronted her several times, and finally Thelma confessed, telling her she was secretly seeing Walt Marlow.”

  “How does that make Walt a killer?”

  “According to Ethel, Thelma’s lover had gotten violent. Apparently, Ethel walked in on her when she was dressing, and she was covered with bruises. At first, she thought Howard was responsible. This was before Ethel knew of Thelma’s affair.”

  “Are you saying Walt Marlow was physically abusive to his lover?”

  “It does happen.”

  Danielle shook her head. “I don’t believe that. Walt would never hit a woman.”

  Ben laughed. Noting Danielle’s lack of shared amusement, Ben stopped laughing. “I’m sorry Danielle, but you have to admit, your defense of a man who died almost a hundred years ago is a little amusing. Perhaps even a little disturbing.”

  “Disturbing, how?”

  “For one thing, you’re living in his house. Perhaps you’re a little too wrapped in the past. Whatever Walt Marlow may have done is ancient history. While I’m a lover of history, I find it best to look back with a critical, objective eye. If not, then those sins of our fathers will do nothing but weigh us down.”