The Ghost Who Was Says I Do Page 18

  A gust of wind made her shiver. Seeking warmth, she dug her hands into her coat’s pockets. Her right hand hit something cold and hard, and then she remembered she had put it there. Her small pistol. Wrapping her hand around the gun, keeping it in her pocket, she wondered if she had the courage to take care of those who threatened her freedom.

  “Where did Clint go?” came a familiar voice behind her.

  Startled, she twirled around to face the person and without thought pulled the revolver from her pocket.

  “How did it go with Claudia?” Danielle asked Walt when he returned to Marlow House.

  “Not good. Maybe we should go up to my room and talk?” he suggested.

  “Why? We’re all alone in the house.” Danielle smiled. Sitting on the parlor sofa, she closed the book she had been reading and patted the empty spot next to her.

  “Where is everyone?” Walt asked as he sat down.

  “Well, I haven’t seen the Russoms since they left early this morning. They must be having fun with their family; they never stick around here. Rachel isn’t back from the movies yet. I assume Tanya is still in Astoria, and Dirk took off not long after you left with Claudia. Where is she, by the way?”

  “She was pretty upset. I left her down at the pier.”

  “So it didn’t go well?”

  “According to her, I might have more problems than just an unwanted marriage.” Walt leaned back in the sofa and put his arm around her. “Remind me, the next time I move into someone’s body, make sure I thoroughly check them out.”

  Danielle chuckled and leaned back into Walt, resting her head against him. She propped her feet on the coffee table. “Don’t make me laugh; none of this is funny.”

  “Remember what I told you, sometimes we just have to—”

  “Laugh,” she finished for him. “Yes, I know. So what did Clint do?”

  “I have no idea. According to Claudia, it’s something that I could spend the next two decades in prison for.”

  “Considering Dirk is intending to blackmail you about something, I suppose we shouldn’t be too surprised. We’re supposed to be planning our wedding, not dealing with all this.”

  “I’m sorry.” Walt kissed the top of her head and hugged her briefly.

  “Walt, it’s not your fault. You are hardly responsible for anything Clint did.”

  “I understand that. But it is strange, sometimes I do feel responsible.”

  “Well, you’re not.”

  “I just heard someone at the front door,” Walt whispered in Danielle’s ear.

  The next moment someone called out from the entry hall, “Hello?” It was Rachel’s voice.

  “We’re in here, Rachel, in the parlor!” Danielle called out.

  “Didn’t I ever tell you it’s unladylike to scream in the house?” Walt teased.

  Gently elbowing Walt, Danielle countered with, “Oh hush!”

  “Hi,” Rachel said when she walked into the parlor a moment later.

  “How was your movie?” Danielle asked.

  “It was okay.” Rachel shrugged. “I wish Claudia had come with me. Is she upstairs?”

  “I don’t think she’s back yet,” Walt told her.

  “Back from where?” Rachel asked.

  “Rachel, maybe you can come sit down for a minute. I’d like to talk to you before Dirk and his wife get back,” Walt told her.

  “Umm…okay.” Rachel looked curiously from Walt to Danielle and then sat down.

  “I just thought you should know, I told Danielle everything your sister told me about us being married.”

  Rachel’s eyes widened. “You did?”

  “He told me on Friday, right after your sister told him. I knew all along,” Danielle said, still snuggled up at Walt’s side.

  “But you said you hadn’t told her,” Rachel said.

  Walt flashed her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I lied. But I preferred to play my cards close to the vest until I figured out what I intended to do.”

  “And what do you intend to do, if I may ask?”

  “I’m going to let my lawyer take care of it.”

  “Your lawyer?” Rachel squeaked. “You haven’t told Claudia that yet, have you?”

  “Yes. We had a little talk this afternoon, and I told her what I had decided to do. I really don’t know why I waited so long to come to that decision; it was the obvious one. But I will admit, your sister’s announcement came as a complete shock, and it took me a few days to process it.”

  “What did she say? I don’t think she wanted to use a lawyer.”

  “Maybe not, but I certainly would not handle an annulment any other way.”

  “Annulment?” Rachel asked.

  “If possible. If not, then a divorce,” Walt said.

  Chris had to give Heather credit. The two restaurants she had selected each had excellent ocean views. Maybe he was partial to his view back home, but this second restaurant was even nicer than Pearl Cove. He had ordered a cocktail while waiting for the real estate agent to arrive. It didn’t take long.

  “Chris Johnson?” the agent greeted him, extending his hand.

  “I assume you’re Andrew Drake?” Chris countered as he stood up.

  The two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. While briefly discussing what Chris might be in the market for, Andrew confessed that he—as had the prior agent—had Googled Glandon Foundation. By his attitude and enthusiasm, Chris knew the man was impressed—and willing to do about anything to garner the foundation’s potentially lucrative business.

  “May I ask how you happened to call me?” Andrew asked.

  “Actually, an acquaintance recommended your office,” Chris explained. “He used to work with you.”

  “Really? Who is that?”

  “You knew him as Clint Marlow. He goes by Walt Marlow now,” Chris explained.

  “Seriously? I heard Clint has amnesia or something. He must not if he recommended the office. How can you recommend something you don’t remember?”

  Chris shrugged. “He says he doesn’t remember.”

  “You don’t think he has it?” Andrew asked.

  “He’s engaged to a good friend of mine. I just find it odd he can’t remember anything. When I told him I was coming down here, he mentioned your office and suggested I call. I suppose he might have just recommended it because he knows he used to work there—not that he actually remembers.” Chris picked up his cocktail and took a sip.

  “Maybe he does have amnesia.” Andrew chuckled. “When Clint left, he had a few choice words for our broker. They had some issues. So I don’t imagine he would actually recommend us. But I hope you won’t hold that against us.”

  “Of course not.” Chris smiled. “Were you friends?”

  “Colleagues.”

  “According to my friend, another one of your colleagues is staying at the same B and B where Clint is currently living. A Dirk Thorpe?”

  “Dirk?” he practically choked out.

  “I haven’t met him,” Chris said. “Danielle just mentioned he was staying there.”

  “Well, that should be interesting.” Andrew took a swig of his drink.

  “Interesting how?”

  “Clint and Dirk were not exactly friends. Not saying they had some feud going on or anything. Actually, I don’t remember them even talking to each other. But Dirk was pretty critical of Clint.”

  “Critical how?”

  “Let’s just say Dirk didn’t believe Clint had his clients’ best interests at heart. But hey, from what I understand, Clint is no longer in the business, and from what I hear, he’s doing pretty good as an author. Which I think is great!”

  Getting ready to go home, Carla started to remove her apron. While checking her pockets, she found the wallet she had put there—and had forgotten.

  “Dang, he didn’t come back for it,” she grumbled. Opening the wallet, she looked through it. Tucked in with the bills was a credit card receipt for the Seahorse Motel. “Well, at leas
t I know where you’re staying—” Carla pulled out his driver’s license and looked at it “—Mr. Hanson.”

  Twenty minutes later, Carla was walking into the office of the Seahorse Motel. She found Sam sitting at the front desk.

  “Since when do they have you working in the office?” Carla asked Sam.

  He shrugged. “I’m just helping out for a couple of hours. What can I do for you, Carla?”

  “I’m looking for one of your guests, an Albert Hanson. He left his wallet in the café, and I want to give it back to him. I can’t believe he hasn’t missed it yet.”

  “Hold on…” Sam punched a few keys on the computer and then looked up at Carla. “He’s staying in room seven.”

  “Thanks, Sam.”

  A few minutes later, Carla stood in front of room seven and knocked on the door. There was no answer. She knocked again. Holding the wallet, she looked down at it and asked herself, “Do I leave it with Sam or take it with me? Or maybe I should take it back to the café?”

  Twenty-Eight

  Rachel finished reading the last page in Moon Runners. Holding the book open on her lap, she looked down and smiled. She had only read it out of curiosity, but it turned out to be her new favorite. It also piqued her curiosity about the author. Had the man she once knew as Clint written it—or was there some mysterious ghost writer out there who wanted to preserve his anonymity, and why? As much as she enjoyed the book, she didn’t think she would share her opinion with her sister.

  Thinking of her sister, she glanced up from where she sat on the sofa and looked to the living room window. It was getting dark outside. Where is Claudia?

  Earlier Claudia had mentioned going downtown to see what the quaint beach community of Frederickport had to offer in the way of shops. Rachel assumed that was where she had gone after leaving Walt. It wasn’t a far walk from the pier to the downtown district, and Rachel had the car, so wherever Claudia went, it had to be by foot. Closing the book and setting it on the coffee table, Rachel glanced at the time.

  Picking up her cellphone off the table, she called her sister’s number. She listened to it ring—and ring—until Claudia’s voicemail came on, telling her to leave a message.

  “I hate when you ignore my call!” Rachel grumbled, turning off her phone. Standing up, she picked up the book and headed for her room to dress for dinner. They had planned to go to Pearl Cove tonight. Rachel figured she would go ahead and get ready.

  A few minutes later Rachel found herself alone on the second floor. Dirk and Tanya hadn’t returned to Marlow House, and Danielle was downstairs in the parlor with Clint—or Walt, as she kept reminding herself to call him. Since she had the entire second floor to herself, Rachel went ahead and took a shower, not worrying about someone waiting for the bathroom. Staying at a bed and breakfast, where you didn’t necessarily have your own bathroom, always made Rachel feel a little uncomfortable.

  Thirty minutes later she was in her bedroom getting dressed. Claudia had still not returned. After finishing applying her makeup, Rachel picked up her cellphone and called her sister again. She waited for it to ring and then was surprised a moment later when she heard ringing coming from the dresser.

  Holding the cellphone in one hand, Rachel walked to the dresser and used her other hand to open the top drawer. In it she found her sister’s purse, and by the ringing coming from the purse, Rachel was fairly certain Claudia had left her cellphone behind.

  With a groan, Rachel turned off her phone. The purse stopped ringing. Rachel looked in her sister’s purse, and just as she expected, Claudia’s cellphone had been left behind. She then rummaged through the purse and found Claudia’s wallet was missing.

  “At least she remembered to take her wallet with her,” Rachel said aloud as she shoved the purse back in the drawer.

  “Excuse me, can I talk to you a minute?” Rachel asked from the doorway of the parlor.

  Walt and Danielle, both of whom were sitting on the sofa reading, looked up.

  “Sure,” Danielle said.

  When Rachel walked in the room a moment later, Danielle said, “You look nice. Where are you and Claudia going for dinner?”

  “That’s what I want to talk to you about; Claudia hasn’t returned yet. I’m getting worried about her.”

  “Did you try calling her?” Walt asked.

  “Yes. But my sister left her cellphone behind. Which doesn’t really surprise me. She doesn’t always take it with her, especially if she wants to disconnect from real estate. At least she has her wallet with her.”

  “So what did you want to talk to us about?” Danielle asked.

  Rachel looked at Walt. “I wanted to know, when you left my sister earlier, did she say anything to you about where she was going afterwards?”

  Walt shook his head. “Sorry. She was pretty upset. She wasn’t thrilled I intended to use an attorney.”

  “I bet,” Rachel muttered under her breath.

  “She started rambling a bit—making threats. I just told her when she calmed down, we could talk later, and I came back here.”

  “Where were you at the time?” Rachel asked.

  “We had just arrived at the pier,” Walt told her.

  “If you’re worried about her, do you think you should call the police?” Danielle asked.

  Rachel quickly shook her head. “Oh no. If Claudia was as upset as Walt says, that would just make it worse. Claudia and I have been living together for about seven months now. When she first moved in with me and stayed out late, I would try calling her. And if she didn’t answer her phone—like now—I would get worried and start calling around and asking her friends where she was. I soon learned not to do that. No, that would just make her mad. If she was really upset after she left Walt, it’s entirely possible she’s sitting in some bar right now having one too many cocktails and will be calling me to pick her up.”

  Danielle flashed Rachel a smile and said, “Well, if there’s anything we can do, just let us know.”

  “Thanks.” Rachel started to leave the room, but paused a moment and turned around to face Walt and Danielle. “Since Claudia left her phone here, she’s going to have to borrow someone’s if she wants me to pick her up later. I think I’m going to go get something to eat by myself. But in case she comes back here without calling me, will you please tell her to call me?”

  Danielle nodded. “Certainly.”

  “I can’t believe you have three rooms rented and you have the house to yourself tonight!” Lily said. She sat on Marlow House’s living room sofa with Ian, with Walt and Danielle sitting across from them in the two chairs. Max napped under the coffee table while Sadie sat nearby, eyeing the cat.

  “You just missed the Russoms,” Danielle said before taking a sip of her wine.

  “They only come by to take a shower or sleep,” Walt added. “They haven’t even made it to a single breakfast.”

  “Which is insane. They obviously have no idea what they’re missing,” Lily said.

  “Walt likes it. Means more cinnamon rolls for him,” Danielle teased.

  “On our way over, Lily told me you talked to Chris tonight. I hope he was more helpful than I’ve been,” Ian said.

  “It was kind of interesting.” Danielle set her wineglass on the side table. “The agent he talked to from Claudia’s office had known both Clint and Claudia for a long time; they all started in real estate with the same broker. She didn’t know if Clint and Claudia dated, much less had a secret marriage. But both agents confirmed Claudia and Clint had been a real estate team early in their careers.”

  “What exactly does it mean to be a real estate team?” Lily asked.

  “Just that, they’re a team. Like a partnership, where they work together with clients,” Ian told her.

  “Do you know why they broke up?” Lily asked.

  “Not really, just that they went to Mexico together—just the two of them—and when they came back, they ended their partnership and each went to different real estate offices
,” Danielle explained.

  “Mexico? It couldn’t have been when they were married, could it?” Lily asked.

  “In my gut, I don’t believe they were married,” Walt insisted.

  “No one mentioned a marriage. But the team breaking up didn’t mean they stopped working together. Claudia started flipping properties. She would buy a fixer-upper, put it on the market, and typically Clint brought in the buyer. I guess they did this until about six years ago,” Danielle explained. “Chris also found out a little about Jay Larson.”

  “Isn’t that the person your potential blackmailer was bringing up with Walt?” Lily asked.

  Danielle nodded. “Yes. Jay was always the appraiser for the buyers Clint brought for Claudia’s listings. Both agents felt Claudia listed them on the high end, and they told Chris they were always surprised when they appraised at full price.”

  “I don’t understand how they always got the same appraiser,” Lily asked. “That’s not even possible.”

  “Not now,” Ian said. “But it was back then—providing Clint steered his buyers to the same lender, and that lender requested Larson. You can’t do that now because the lending laws have changed because of the housing crash.”

  “According to the agent at Clint’s old office, Dirk had a meltdown once when his buyer used Larson, and the property didn’t appraise.”

  “Some properties won’t; that’s just part of the business,” Ian said.

  “The problem, Dirk felt Claudia’s listings were wildly overpriced, and didn’t believe they should have ever appraised at full price. And then when one of the properties his client made an offer on—one he felt was priced right—did not come in at the listing price, he was furious.”

  “I can understand that,” Lily said.

  “Interesting. If they were still a team, working at the same office and flipping properties, they would have to disclose to the buyer they were not just a dual agent, but that they were in fact the seller. But if they were each working for separate brokers, then when Clint brought in a buyer, he could make it look like his fiduciary duty is to the buyer—and not disclose he has an interest in the property. If that was in fact what was going on,” Ian suggested.