The Ghost from the Sea Read online

  “Fine.” Danielle let out a deep breath. “Let’s say Walt Marlow was having an affair with Thelma Templeton, and he liked to smack her around. Where does that lead to him ordering the hit—assuming he didn’t do the job himself—of his yacht’s crew and all its passengers?”

  “For one thing, according to Ethel, Thelma was upset because Walt was trying to break it off. She told Ethel, he didn’t know who he was dealing with.”

  “So? Walt wanted to end the affair. Why kill Thelma?”

  “According to her diary, Ethel couldn’t understand why her friend was so upset about losing a lover who beat her. She also wrote about how Thelma had the upper hand, considering Ralph’s involvement with Walt Marlow.”

  “Ralph? Jolene’s grandfather? What do you mean his involvement with Walt?”

  “Ralph and his brother Howard had inherited their family’s business. That’s where Jolene inherited her money. When Jolene said her husband loved to fish, she wasn’t kidding. He was never much of an attorney. But considering Jolene’s family money, he didn’t need to be.”

  “You’re losing me here; what does this have to do with Walt?”

  “It was common knowledge, according to the diary, that Walt and Ralph—Jolene’s grandfather—were working on some business deal, and Howard wasn’t sold on it. Had Thelma gone to her brother-in-law, confessed the affair, convinced Ralph that Walt had seduced her, he would have probably ended the business association with Walt, and possibly done more to hurt him. Jolene’s grandfather was known for being rather ruthless.”

  “So you think Walt killed all those people, so Ralph wouldn’t discover his affair with his sister-in-law?”

  “It also got Howard out of the way. He was not in favor of the business alliance between his family and Walt. He may have been an occasional customer on Walt’s party boat; they weren’t friends. And after the Eva Aphrodite went missing and everyone on board was declared dead, Walt and Ralph formed a brief business alliance.”

  “Brief?” Danielle asked.

  “I’m not sure what happened; I can’t find anything on it, aside from what was in the diary. And Jolene didn’t even know her grandfather and Walt had ever been partners.”

  “I still don’t see how any of this proves—or even suggests—Walt would do something like this.”

  Ben shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t. But he did have a motive. And according to Ethel, when they eventually had a memorial service for Thelma, Walt didn’t even bother to attend. He was out of town at the time. She was appalled at how little Thelma’s death affected a man who she had been having an affair with for over two years.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Danielle hadn’t expected to be gone that long. After pulling into the side drive at Marlow House and parking, she checked the time. It was almost 4:00 p.m. Joanne’s car was still out front, so Danielle knew she hadn’t left. Wearily getting from the vehicle, she slammed its door shut and headed to the house.

  “How did everything go at the museum?” Joanne asked when Danielle entered the kitchen from the side yard.

  “Not quite as I thought it would.” Danielle tossed her purse on the kitchen counter and opened the refrigerator.

  “Did you have some lunch?” Joanne asked, looking up from the vegetables she was dicing for Sunday’s breakfast.

  “No. I was at the museum longer than I anticipated, and by the time I got the rest of my errands done, I just wanted to come home.” Danielle grabbed some lunchmeat and a jar of mayonnaise and then used her hip to close the refrigerator door.

  “You are going to wash your hands before you make yourself a sandwich, aren’t you?” Joanne asked in a scolding tone.

  Danielle chuckled. “Yes Mom.” Setting the lunchmeat and mayonnaise on the counter, she quickly washed her hands in the kitchen sink before grabbing a loaf of bread from the breadbox.

  “When does the museum take official ownership of the emerald?”

  “The display case is supposed to be finished by this coming Wednesday, maybe sooner. I may take it down then. It officially goes on display Friday. But for now, the emerald is just on loan to the historical society.”

  Joanne looked up from the chopping block and glanced over at Danielle. “You decided not to give it to them?”

  “Not right now. Probably eventually. Long story.” Danielle sat down at the kitchen table with her freshly made sandwich. Before taking a bite she asked, “Where is everyone?”

  “Your guests are all out. The nice mystery writer said something about stopping at the museum. Did you see her?”

  “No.” Danielle grinned. “If she’s the nice mystery writer, what are you calling the couple?”

  Joanne set her knife down and chuckled. While moving the freshly diced vegetables into a small Tupperware container she said, “I’ll be generous and just call them your downstairs couple. But she doesn’t seem like a particularly happy woman.”

  “No, no she doesn’t.” Danielle took another bite of her sandwich.

  It was almost 5:00 p.m. when Joanne finally left for the day. Instead of going to the attic in search of Walt, Danielle went to the living room, where she found Max curled up on the sofa, sleeping. When she sat down on the sofa next to him, he opened his eyes and yawned.

  “Hey, Max. You have a rough life.” Smiling, Danielle reached out and stroked the cat’s neck.

  Standing up, Max strolled over to Danielle, walking onto her lap. After making himself comfortable, ignoring her grunts due to his excess weight, Max settled down and began to purr. Looking down at the black cat curled up on her lap, Danielle smiled, while gently rubbing the white fur along the tips of his otherwise black ears.

  “I thought you’d come upstairs,” Walt said when he appeared in front of the sofa a moment later. Both Max and Danielle looked up at Walt.

  “Hi Walt,” Danielle greeted in a subdued voice. Max yawned and then settled his face back on his front paws, closing his eyes. He began to purr again.

  Walt took a seat across from Danielle. “I saw Joanne drive off. How did it go at the museum?”

  Danielle shrugged indifferently, while still stroking Max’s neck. “I met the new board member. Jolene Carmichael. She grew up in Frederickport, just moved back. Her husband was Doug Carmichael.”

  “Doug Carmichael? Should I know who that is?”

  “Probably not. He was Clarence Renton’s partner in the law practice. Jolene moved to New York to be with their daughter, after her husband died a number of years ago.”

  Waving his hand, Walt summons a lit cigar. Before taking a puff, he narrowed his eyes and asked, “Was he also embezzling from clients?”

  Danielle shrugged. “I wondered that myself, when she told me who she was. She’s also the granddaughter of one of your old business partners.”

  Prepared to take another puff of the cigar, Walt paused, flashing Danielle a brief frown. “Business partner? Jack was my only business partner, and as far as I know he never had any children.”

  Studying Walt’s expression, Danielle licked her lips and then said, “Ralph Templeton.”

  “Ralph Templeton?” Walt stood up. “I haven’t heard that name in years.” He began pacing the room.

  “From what she told me, her grandfather’s brother—Howard, and Howard’s wife, were on the Eva Aphrodite when it went missing.”

  Walt sat back down and looked at Danielle. “So, why did you call Ralph my business partner?”

  “According to Ben, you and Ralph went into some business venture together.”

  Walt shook his head. “That’s not true. Ralph Templeton would be the last man I’d do business with.”

  “According to Ben, you and Ralph were negotiating some business deal, his brother was against it, and after the Eva Aphrodite went missing, you two moved ahead with it—whatever it was.”

  Leaning back in the chair, Walt smiled at Danielle. “Where is Ben getting all this information?”

  Licking her lips again, her gaze meeting Walt’s, Danie
lle said, “From Ethel Pearson’s diary.”

  If Danielle expected a reaction, she didn’t get one. Leaning forward, Walt continued to stare at her, a frown on his face, as if he was attempting to place Ethel Pearson. Finally, he said, “I’m afraid you lost me. Who is Ethel Pearson?”

  “A close friend of Thelma Templeton. Don’t you remember her?”

  Walt shrugged and leaned back in the chair. “I’m sorry. I barely remember Thelma, aside from the fact she was married to Howard Templeton.”

  “You don’t remember Thelma?” Danielle asked incredulously.

  Again, Walt shrugged. “I’m sorry. That was a long time ago, and we weren’t exactly friends.”

  “What exactly were you?” Danielle asked in a humorless voice.

  “Social acquaintances?” Walt suggested.

  “Is that what they used to call mistresses in your day?”

  Walt scowled. “Mistresses? What are you talking about?”

  “According to Ethel, you and Thelma were lovers.”

  Walt sat there a moment, staring at Danielle, momentarily dumbfounded. Then he did something Danielle didn’t expect; he began to laugh. Bending over from uncontained laughter, his cigar disappeared. “Me…me and Thelma Templeton?” Walt choked out between fits of laughter.

  “Would you please tell me what is so funny!” Danielle demanded.

  She didn’t get her answer, because in the next moment Ian and Lily came through the front door with Sadie. Walt was still laughing when Sadie ran into the living room, jumping onto the chair with him. Walt disappeared and Sadie jumped down to the floor.

  “We saw your car out front,” Lily said when she walked into the room a moment later.

  Danielle looked from the chair Walt had been occupying to the doorway, where Lily stood with Ian, their expressions solemn.

  “Is something wrong?” Danielle asked.

  “It’s Emma Jackson,” Lily said when she walked into the room. As she approached the sofa, Danielle noticed Lily’s red-rimmed eyes. She had been crying.

  “Oh…you don’t mean…” Danielle said sadly.

  “Mathew called,” Ian explained. He took a seat on one of the chairs across from Danielle, pulling Lily to him. She sat on his knee, leaning against his shoulder.

  “She went peacefully,” Lily said. “The neighbors found her. She was sitting in her rocker on the front porch, and just went to sleep.”

  “Wow. She would have been 107 in just a couple months,” Danielle murmured. “She had a good, long life.”

  “Most of it was good,” Ian corrected.

  “You have a point,” Danielle sighed. “I’m glad she was able to read her biography before she passed away.”

  Ian wrapped his arm around Lily and gave her a quick hug. “Something I might not have written had this one not put that idea in my head.”

  “How often do you come across an 106 year old black woman—one who is still sharp—willing to tell you what her life was like back when it was still illegal for blacks to even live in Oregon.”

  “That didn’t stop her.” Ian chuckled.

  “True.” Lily smiled.

  “So, when is the funeral?” Danielle asked.

  “They aren’t having one,” Lily said.

  “What do you mean? They have to have a funeral,” Danielle insisted.

  Ian shook his head. “No, Emma was pretty emphatic about that. She didn’t want a funeral. Instead, she told her family she wanted them to visit her when she was still alive, not spend money on airplane tickets after she was dead. Which is one reason they all showed up at her 106th birthday party.”

  Danielle smiled. “I remember now. Mathew once told me she called all her kids, grandkids, nieces, and nephews on the phone and told them if they weren’t coming to her birthday party because they were saving their money to pay travel expenses for her funeral, then they didn’t have to worry about coming to either one, because she wasn’t having a funeral. Told them that if they loved her, they would prove it by showing up at her birthday.”

  Lily laughed. “I remember hearing that.”

  They spent the next thirty minutes reminiscing about Emma Jackson and discussing the biography Ian had written about her. Finally, Lily asked Danielle about her visit to the museum.

  “For the time being I’m loaning the emerald to the museum, I won’t be donating it. At least, not yet.” She then went on to explain her afternoon at the museum.

  “I can’t believe that woman would say those things to you,” Ian said incredulously. “I wonder if her husband was as corrupt as his law partner. Was he also embezzling from his clients?”

  “That’s what Walt wondered,” Danielle said without thinking.

  Ian frowned. “Walt?”

  Danielle froze, her eyes widened. “Did I say Walt?”

  “Yes you did,” Lily said, suppressing her giggle.

  Danielle shrugged. “I meant, that’s what I wondered.”

  “You got out of that one,” Lily teased after Ian went home with Sadie. She and Danielle remained sitting in the living room.

  Danielle glanced briefly to the ceiling. “I guess I should go tell Walt about Emma’s passing.”

  “Do you think you’ll see her, before she moves on?” Lily asked.

  “I doubt it. If she’s not having a funeral, she’ll probably move on to see her husband. Maybe she’ll hang around and watch her kids go through her house.”

  “You know, I cried when I heard she died. I really liked Emma. But I’m not really sad that she’s moved on,” Lily said. “She was pretty lucky that she managed to live in her house all this time, never had to go into a home. What a peaceful way to go, sitting in your rocking chair.”

  “You’re right. But I do wish I could talk to Emma again. There are some things I’d like to ask her. I’m almost tempted to drive over to her house and see if her spirit is still sticking around.”

  “Why?”

  “How about we take a drive, Lily? Go grab some dinner.”

  Lily soon discovered Danielle wasn’t all that hungry, since she had eaten a sandwich two hours earlier. Yet leaving the house gave Danielle the opportunity to speak candidly with Lily, without Walt listening in. She needed to tell Lily what she hadn’t shared when Ian was at Marlow House.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It had been a long day. Danielle hadn’t seen Max since all her guests had returned to Marlow House. She had intended to slip up to the attic and talk to Walt after everyone went to bed, but Hillary Hemingway had left the door to her room wide open.

  When Danielle had passed by the open doorway a moment earlier, she noticed Hillary sitting in the easy chair, reading. If Danielle went up to the attic now, Hillary might get curious and follow her upstairs. The last thing Danielle wanted was for her curious mystery writer to catch her in the middle of a conversation with Marlow House’s resident ghost. That would be extremely awkward, especially since Hillary couldn’t see him.

  Danielle climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chest. She sat up, leaned against the headboard, and waited for Walt. Since she hadn’t gone up to the attic, she expected Walt to pop into her room and say goodnight. She wanted to finish their conversation Lily and Ian had interrupted earlier. Danielle patiently waited, her hands folded neatly on her lap. Glancing up to the ceiling she whispered, “Walt, hello? Where are you?”

  After thirty minutes, Danielle could no longer keep her eyes open. Reluctantly, she leaned over and turned off the side lamp, sending her room into darkness. Scooting down in the covers, she pulled the blankets up to her chin and curled into a fetal position, closing her eyes. Within minutes, she was fast asleep.

  A woman laughed. Danielle opened her eyes. She looked around and found herself sitting inside what appeared to be a rustic, old-fashioned saloon—yet she wasn’t sitting on a chair. Where was she?

  Jazz music hammered its tune on a keyboard. Danielle looked down. She sat on an upright piano, her feet dangling in front of the piano playe
r who seemed oblivious to her presence. Letting out a surprised yelp, she pulled up her knees, and wiggled to the end of the piano. From where she perched she had a clear view of the entire room.

  A man laughed. Danielle looked to her left. Walt sat on the other end of the piano, dressed in a dark blue pinstripe suit, a lit cigar in his hand.

  The sound of the piano dimmed—it was barely audible. In the background, voices and laughter blended into a faint hum.

  “What do you think?” Walt asked.

  Ignoring her surroundings, Danielle focused on Walt. “I was going to come upstairs to talk to you, but I couldn’t. I was hoping you’d come to my room to say goodnight.”

  “I’m here now.” He smiled.

  “I wanted to tell you, Emma Jackson passed away this afternoon.”

  Walt grinned. “Good for her.”

  Danielle’s face broke into a smile. “Not a reaction I expected.”

  Walt cocked his head and shrugged. “The woman had a long, full life. She lived almost four times longer than I did, and now she can see all the people from her life who’ve already moved on.”

  “You think she’ll see them?”

  “That’s what you’re always telling me.” Walt grinned. “So, what do you think?”

  “Where are we?” Danielle glanced around. “Is this what they call a speakeasy?”

  “Yes.”

  She guessed there were at least thirty people—some sitting at tables or at the bar, others lingering along the wall, a few standing nearby watching the piano player, and a couple danced at the back of the room. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves. By their dress, she knew the era was the 1920s. While she expected all the women to be dressed as flappers, with short-fringed dresses, that wasn’t the case. A few were, but others were dressed in more stylish clothing of the era. One woman wore a stone marten fox stole, with the heads and feet of the poor dead foxes dangling from her shoulders.