The Ghost of Valentine Past Read online

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I looked into it again and had someone else review the medical records, and there is no doubt Isabella died of natural causes. Yet according to Wayne, Mitcham offered to hook him up with a hit man—to kill Morris. Because, according to Mitcham, Morris was so well connected he’d get away with the murder.”

  “You aren’t suggesting Will hired Mitcham to kill Morris, are you?”

  “No. According to Wayne, he was more interested in finding out who in the coroner’s office was involved in the cover up, but he backed away from Mitcham after the offer. Plus, the PI never handed over any of the information he claimed to have uncovered. So basically, he expected Wayne to simply take his word on it.”

  “Why would Mitcham lie about something like that?” Danielle asked.

  “I just hope your friend didn’t hire Mitcham to kill Morris and just told me all that to throw me off, in case Mitcham screwed up—which he did—and left a clue that would lead us to him.”

  Danielle shook her head, “I just can’t believe Will would hire a hit man.”

  “You don’t have kids, Danielle.”

  “What does that have to do with it?”

  “If someone hurt one of my boys like that—I honestly don’t know what I’d do. In fact, I don’t even like to think about it.”

  “No…Will Wayne is a good man.”

  “I’d like to think I’m a good man too. But when it comes to someone hurting one of my kids—well, anything is possible. It’s not as if Peter Morris was a particularly likable man. He had a history of bilking vulnerable people out of money, and if Wayne honestly believed he had Isabella killed, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “So why haven’t you arrested him yet?”

  “Aside from the fact I keep tripping over other people connected to Mitcham who also have motives, I think it would be premature. I really don’t want to repeat your cousin’s murder investigation.”

  Danielle knew what he was talking about. Several people, including herself, were arrested for Cheryl’s murder before the real killer was arrested.

  Danielle listed off the current suspects. “So far, there is Heather, Arlene—David, if you consider his connection to Mitcham through Arlene and his history with Earthbound Spirits—and then there’s Will.”

  “You forget Kelly.”

  “Kelly? Sure, she’s his neighbor, but she didn’t have a reason to kill Morris.”

  “Sure she did.”

  “What are you talking about?” Danielle asked.

  “What’s our agreement, Danielle?” the chief asked.

  Danielle let out a sigh, “What you tell me in confidence about an ongoing case can not go any farther than you and me, unless you give me permission to tell someone like Lily or Walt. And I’ll be your spiritual informer.”

  “Spiritual informer?” The chief smiled.

  “Or is it spiritual snitch?” she asked.

  “Okay…whatever…but for now, you need to keep this between us. If Kelly happens to tell you herself, pretend like it’s the first time you’ve heard it.”

  Danielle frowned. “Heard what?”

  “Kelly believes Peter Morris was responsible for her roommate’s suicide. Not much different from Cleve’s suicide, yet it this case, it was primarily about money.”

  “Money?”

  “The young woman had an inheritance from her grandmother. She was troubled. Morris convinced her to move on to paradise—and oh, by the way, leave me your money so I can continue to help other girls like you.”

  “Damn…” Danielle shook her head in disgust. “We should be giving Logan Mitcham a medal, instead of finding him so we can throw him in prison.”

  “I know how you feel, believe me.”

  “So now what?” Danielle asked.

  “Now I’d like to learn more about the connection between Mitcham and Arlene. I’d also like to figure out how Hilton plays into all this.”

  “It’s interesting how all roads seem to lead back to Mitcham. But how did all these people happen to hire the same private detective? What are the odds of that?”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chief MacDonald sat with Brian Henderson and Joe Morelli in his office, discussing the Morris murder. Danielle had left fifteen minutes earlier. MacDonald felt frustration in not being able to share what he knew about Arlene and Mitcham. But how could he possibly tell his men a ghost over at Marlow House happened to see the killer kiss Arlene?

  “Did Danielle have anything new that might help us?” Joe asked.

  “Not really.” The chief closed the file folder he had just been sorting through and tossed it on his desk.

  “Does Danielle still have a full house?” Joe asked.

  “I understand Chris Johnson moved out this morning.”

  “It’s about time.”

  Ignoring Joe’s comment, the chief said, “I think we need to take a closer look at Arlene Horton and David Hilton. After all, we know Hilton has a history with Morris, one he didn’t disclose in our interview.”

  Brian thumbed through a file, reviewing his notes. “While I agree we need to take a closer look at everyone, I think the ones we need to focus on right now are those with a direct tie to Mitcham. Heather was the last one to see Morris alive—and she admits to hiring Mitcham. Kelly has a motive, connection to Mitcham, and she admits to being outside the house around the time of the murder.”

  “If Heather hired Mitcham to kill Morris, why do it where she’s staying?” Joe asked. “I think the one with the most compelling motive is Will Wayne.”

  “I’d like to find out more about how Wayne happened to hire the same private detective as Heather,” Brian said. “Maybe there’s some connection between Heather and Wayne.”

  “Talk to the nurse who supposedly recommended Mitcham to Wayne. See what she knows,” the chief told him.

  Carol Barnes sat alone in a booth at Pier Café, waiting for Officer Brian Henderson to join her. She glanced at her watch. They had agreed to meet at the café. It would allow Carol time to grab something to eat before she had to be at her appointment.

  The server was just bringing Carol her lunch when a man wearing a police uniform entered the café. Assuming he was Brian Henderson, she waved him over to her table.

  “Are you Carol Barnes?” the officer asked when he reached her table.

  “Yes. Are you Officer Henderson?”

  “Yes. I appreciate you meeting with me on such short notice,” Brian said as he took a seat across from her.

  Carol looked apologetically at the plate of food before her, “I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered myself something to eat. I’ve an appointment in an hour and missed breakfast.”

  “That’s fine.” Brian removed a small notepad from his pocket. “Please eat. We can talk while you have lunch.”

  The server who had brought Carol’s food returned to the table. She looked at Brian. “Would you like to order something?”

  “Just coffee, please.”

  When they were alone, Carol asked, “So how can I help you?”

  “I understand you referred Logan Mitcham to Will Wayne,” Brian began.

  “The private detective?” Carol picked up her sandwich.

  “Yes. How do you know him?”

  “Oh, I don’t know him. Never met him before.” Carol took a bite of her sandwich.

  “If you’ve never met him, how did you happen to refer him to Mr. Wayne?”

  “As you probably already know, I’m one of the nurses who works with Mr. Wayne’s wife, Karen.” Carol set her sandwich back on her plate. “I suppose, technically speaking, she’s his ex-wife. But considering how good he is to her, she might as well be his wife. I’ve gotten to know Mr. Wayne. We’ve spent a lot of time talking. When he told me about his daughter and the phone calls he received…” Carol paused a moment and looked up into Brian’s eyes. “Do you know about the phone calls?”

  “Are you referring to the anonymous caller who c
laimed Peter Morris had Isabella killed?”

  Carol nodded and took a quick bite of her sandwich. A moment later she said, “I was at the house when he got one of the calls. He was pretty upset. I asked him what was wrong—if there was anything I could do. The poor man, he just broke down. You have to understand, it can be very stressful taking care of a loved one with Alzheimer’s, even when you have help, like Mr. Wayne does. It’s emotionally draining. And then to learn someone might have murdered his daughter.”

  The server brought Brian his coffee and then left the table. Brian asked Carol, “Did you ever suggest he go to the police?”

  “I did at first. But he felt no one would listen to him if he didn’t have some tangible proof. After all, the coroner’s office ruled his daughter’s death was from natural causes.”

  “So you recommended Mitcham?”

  “Yes, considering the circumstances, I felt Mr. Mitcham was the best choice for him.”

  “How is that? I thought you said you had never met Mr. Mitcham before.”

  “Someone on the chat board recommended Mitcham. Told me if I wanted to hire a private detective to investigate Earthbound Spirits, he was the only one to use—because he’d been investigating Earthbound Spirits for a number of years, helping people whose family members got sucked into the group.”

  “What chat board?”

  “I suppose I should explain.” Carol placed her partially eaten sandwich back on her plate and took a sip of water. “I used to work at the hospital, and one of the other nurses got involved with Earthbound Spirits. I’d just moved into the area and had never heard of them before, so when Cora started talking about them, I was curious. I’m not a churchy person, and some of the things she told me sounded interesting.”

  “Are you saying you got involved with Earthbound Spirits?”

  Carol let out a short laugh and shook her head. “Heavens no! But I’ll admit I was intrigued. Not curious enough to go to one of the rallies Cora tried to get me to attend, but I wanted to know more about them. So, I went online. That’s when I came across the forum on cults and an ongoing discussion about Earthbound Spirits.”

  Brian remembered what Heather had told him. “Someone on the forum mentioned Mitcham?”

  “Not on the forum, exactly—but in a private message. No one on the forum uses their real names. But one of the regular posters—someone who goes by CultCurious—sent me a private message. I’d been discussing Cora on the forum, but I never mentioned her name or where she worked, just that I was concerned about her after reading what everyone was saying about the group.”

  “What did CultCurious say in the private message?”

  “He told me if I wanted to help my friend, or if her family needed some way to get her away from the group, I should contact Logan Mitcham. I figure everyone has a right to whatever wacky religion they want to follow. So I told CultCurious thanks, but that I had no intention of contacting the private investigator. But then later, when Mr. Wayne told me about his daughter and his concerns, I remembered the private message and gave Mr. Wayne the private investigator’s name.”

  “Do you still frequent the forum?” Brian asked.

  “No. I surfed around on the site for about a week and chatted there for a couple of days. But then I switched jobs and didn’t see Cora again. That was about six months ago.” Carol shrugged. “I didn’t think too much about Earthbound Spirits after that.”

  “And you remembered Logan Mitcham’s name?”

  “Heavens, no,” Carol laughed. “I told Mr. Wayne about the private detective I’d heard about, and then I logged back into the chat room. I’d never deleted my private messages, so it was fairly easy to pull up the old message with the detective’s name.”

  “Both Heather Donovan and Will Wayne found Logan Mitcham through the same chatroom. In both instances someone with the handle CultCurious recommended Mitcham,” Brian told Joe and MacDonald, as the three men sat in the breakroom eating lunch.

  After Brian detailed his interview with Carol Barnes, Joe set his burger on a napkin and picked up his cellphone. He opened a browser and ran a quick search. Looking up to Brian he asked, “Did you find out the name of this forum or chat room? The one CultCurious hangs out in?”

  After Brian gave Joe the website’s name, Joe asked, “Why hasn’t Kelly Bartley mentioned this chat room?”

  The chief looked over at Joe. “Why would she? She met Mitcham because he’s her neighbor.”

  “Or so she says.” Joe popped a french fry in his mouth.

  “What do you mean?” Brian asked. “We know he lives downstairs from her.”

  “Kelly claims to be researching Earthbound Spirits for the exposé Ian’s working on. If that’s true, then she has to be familiar with this website—it’s one of the first links that come up when I did my search on Earthbound Spirits and complaints.”

  The chief shrugged. “She probably knows about the website, but the fact that she didn’t mention it doesn’t really have a bearing on the case.”

  “How do you figure that, Chief?” Joe asked. “Kelly claimed she had no idea Mitcham was a private detective working on cases trying to uncover dirt on Morris and his group. Who’s to say she wasn’t given Mitcham’s name when she posted on the group, just like Heather and the nurse?”

  “What makes you think she posted on the forum?” the chief asked.

  “Come on, seriously? There is no way she missed this website, and since she’s researching the group, what better place to hook up with others who have stories about Earthbound Spirits than this forum? Which means, she’d be asking questions.”

  “Let’s say she has posted on the site; there is no reason to jump to the conclusion that CultCurious sent her a private message like he did with several others,” the chief reminded.

  “I agree, but it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t look into it.” Joe studied the chief for a moment. “I don’t get you, Chief, this isn’t like you. I’d think you’d be the first to check out Kelly’s browser history, see if she had more of a connection to our missing PI than just being his neighbor.”

  “You’re thinking she may have hired him to kill Morris?” Brian asked.

  “I think it’s something we need to look into.” Joe popped another french fry into his mouth.

  The chief sat quietly at the table, thinking about what Danielle had told him earlier about Arlene Horton. That was the real reason he felt Joe’s focus on Kelly was wasted energy. He was about to ask Joe, just how did Kelly know Morris was going to be at Marlow House, when he realized the same question could be asked of Arlene. Of course, according to Danielle, her husband’s ghost claimed Arlene seemed surprised the private detective was at Marlow House. With a groan, MacDonald pressed the heel of his right hand against his forehead.

  “You all right, Chief?” Brian asked.

  “This case is giving me a headache.”

  Page after page filled the laser printer’s tray while Ian stood, smiling down at the machine. Lily walked into his home office carrying two cups of coffee. She handed him one and then took a sip from the remaining cup.

  “So this is it?” she asked.

  “The article, anyway. I need to go through it, approve the editor’s changes,” he explained.

  “I can’t wait to read it. I know Danielle’s really anxious to. Are you going to make us wait until the article comes out in the magazine?”

  “Maybe it would be better if you didn’t read the article and wait until the book comes out in a couple months,” Ian teased.

  “Yeah right, like that’s happening.” Lily laughed. “I intend to read both the article and the book.”

  Ian wrapped his arm around Lily’s shoulder and gave her a quick squeeze. “I appreciate your support.”

  “Hey, this story was my idea. I’m just thrilled you thought it was a good one. This is kind of an extra Valentine’s Day gift—the article version of the Emma Jackson story back from the editor.”

  Ian gave her cheek a quick k
iss. “Does that mean I don’t need to give you anything else for Valentine’s Day?”

  Playfully nudging him with her elbow she said, “I don’t think so.”

  “Umm…guys…” Kelly interrupted a moment later. Ian and Lily looked to the doorway, where Kelly stood. “I don’t think I can leave today.”

  “That’s fine, Kelly.” Ian studied his sister for a moment. “Is something wrong?”

  “I just got a call from Brian Henderson. They want me to come back in. They need to ask me more questions,” she said dully, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Kelly, maybe I should go with you,” Ian suggested.

  “Do you think I need a lawyer?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Damp and frigid, the sea breeze intensified, morphing into a robust gust that dislodged Danielle’s braid. Brushing errant strands behind her ear, she hurried to the front door, pulling the jacket tight around her body. Before she had time to knock on the door, it swung open. Without a second thought, she rushed inside the beach bungalow.

  Chris slammed the door closed behind her. “Not the best day to move.”

  “It’s freezing out there! The wind just came out of nowhere.” Danielle shivered. She immediately walked across the room and looked out the back sliding-glass door. The house boasted an unobstructed view of the ocean. “I sure wouldn’t get tired of this view.”

  “It’s really something, isn’t it?” Chris asked, standing beside her. “I’d offer you some hot coffee or something, but I haven’t gone to the store yet.”

  “That’s okay, I’m coffeed out.” No longer shivering, she glanced around the room. “You know, this furniture isn’t bad.”

  “The place has everything—fully furnished, linens, pots, and pans.”

  “Not everything. It doesn’t have coffee.” Danielle grinned.

  “You said you didn’t want coffee.”

  “Oh, I’m just teasing. I’ve already exceeded today’s coffee quota. But you know, a house is not a home until there’s food in the fridge.”

  “Like I said, I haven’t gone to the store yet.”