The Ghost and the Doppelganger Read online

  “Maybe.” Adam grinned and added, “I like the new hair, by the way. Makes your eyes stand out.”

  “Why thank you, Adam,” Danielle said with prim politeness.

  He glanced to the door. “You have any guests?”

  Danielle shook her head. “Nope. I decided not to book anyone this week, since my next guests are staying for two weeks—thanks to you.”

  Adam frowned. “Me?”

  “Yeah, you’re the one who sent Walt Marlow’s cousin the link to our website, where he saw the portraits.”

  “Ooooohhh…” Adam grimaced. “So when’s he going to be here?”

  “Next Wednesday. He’s staying through Easter and leaving on the thirtieth,” Danielle explained.

  “The day before Danielle’s birthday!” Lily chirped.

  “It’s your birthday this month?” Adam grinned. “Have anything exciting planned? I bet I could get Chet to take you out.”

  “Oh, shut up, you jerk,” Danielle scoffed.

  Adam laughed and then said, “Seriously, are you doing anything special for your birthday?”

  Danielle shrugged. “I haven’t given it much thought. I just want to get through this visit with Walt’s cousin. He’s bringing along his fiancée and some artist, who’ll be copying the portraits for him.”

  Adam chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” Danielle asked.

  “It always cracks me up when you call him Walt, like you’re old friends or something, not some guy who’s been dead a century.”

  “I think I should throw another croquet ball at this guy,” Walt grumbled.

  “Sometimes it feels like Walt’s still here,” Danielle said sweetly.

  “Yeah, right.” Adam rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe the artist will be able to finish in just two weeks. Those are two big paintings.”

  Danielle shrugged. “He had me take photographs of the portraits. I emailed him a ton of pictures. He wanted detailed measurements and even wanted pictures of the backs of the paintings.”

  “Wow, you’re a sport,” Adam muttered. “And he’s staying here for two weeks?”

  “Walt’s cousin must have some money,” Lily suggested. “I know he’s in real estate and has flexible hours, but that’s a lot of time to be away from work, and then he says they’re getting married this summer, so I would assume they’d be going on a honeymoon. Plus, it must be costing a fortune to pay an artist, not to mention the expense of the artist staying here with them.”

  “I still don’t know why you want to keep those monstrosities,” Adam said. “I’d sell them.”

  “I don’t want to sell them,” Danielle insisted.

  “I forgot, you’re Ms Money Bags, don’t need the money.” Adam chuckled.

  “No, I don’t need it. Plus, I like the portraits. They belong here.”

  Adam glanced briefly to the ceiling and muttered under his breath, “Yeah, you wouldn’t want to screw up your feng shui.”

  Four

  The days had flown by, and it was Wednesday again, the day Clint Marlow would be arriving at Marlow House with his bride-to-be and the artist he had commissioned to copy Walt’s portraits. Danielle’s housekeeper and cook, Joanne Johnson, was in the downstairs bedroom putting fresh towels into its bathroom. It had been decided the artist would stay in the downstairs bedroom, as it was closer to the library, where he would be painting. Danielle was in the kitchen frosting a cake she had baked earlier that morning, and Walt and Marie were in the library, chatting. Max dozed on the sofa next to Marie, his white-fringed black ears occasionally twitching in his sleep.

  Marie glanced around the library, taking in the dark paneling, antique furniture, and floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with leather-bound books. “I’m surprised Danielle’s going to let him work in here. What if he gets paint on something?”

  “The man is supposedly a professional; I assume he can manage to confine the paint to his brushes and canvas. But if not, Danielle is supplying drop cloths, and I will be supervising.” Walt stood by the portraits, smoking a thin cigar.

  “I guess you’ll be able to take care of any mishaps.” Marie reached over to pet Max, forgetting for a moment that was impossible. When her hand moved through him, she let out a sigh. Although his eyes were still closed, the cat began to purr.

  “I believe you’ve become fond of him,” Walt said with a chuckle.

  “I have to admit he is an interesting fellow. I never imagined a cat could be so opinionated.”

  “Indeed.” Walt flicked an ash off his cigar, only to have it vanish a moment later.

  “I have been meaning to tell you something.” Marie shifted on the sofa to better face Walt. She folded her hands on her lap.

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve been able to harness some energy.” She glanced briefly at the cat and then added, “Although apparently not enough to pet Max.”

  Walt arched his brows. “Do tell.”

  “I’ve managed to turn off the electricity at Adam’s office. It doesn’t stay off. But it goes off for a moment. I’ve done it about four times now.”

  “Why would you want to interfere with your grandson’s electricity?”

  Marie shook her head. “I really don’t want to discuss that. But the point is I managed to do it. I thought that as long as I didn’t stay in one place, as you do, I wouldn’t be able to do any of your tricks.”

  “They aren’t tricks, Marie. As you yourself just said, it’s simply a matter of us manipulating energy.”

  “Whatever it’s called…but I thought whatever energy I did have, I was using up by being able to move about. And now this! It’s rather exciting.”

  “Don’t get carried away with yourself.” Walt chuckled. “It’s fairly common for a spirit—even one not restrained to a location, such as myself—to be able to do something, and manipulating electricity is a fairly common one, from what I’ve come to understand. In fact, even my dear wife Angela, who’s confined to the cemetery and virtually stripped of any spiritual powers due to her past indiscretions, was able to interfere with Danielle’s cellphone and make her car stall. I’m surprised Eva didn’t tell you that.”

  Marie was just about to respond when she heard the doorbell ring.

  Walt glanced at the desk clock. “I wonder if that’s my cousin now?”

  Joanne had just entered the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” Danielle said as she wiped her hands on a dish towel and removed her apron. “It’s probably our guests.”

  “I have to admit, I’m curious to see this one,” Joanne said as she picked up the plate holding the cake Danielle had just frosted and moved it to a covered cake pan. “I want to see if he really looks that much like the portrait.”

  “I suspect we’ll find out in a minute.” Danielle tossed her apron onto the counter and headed to the doorway leading to the hallway, while Joanne remained in the kitchen.

  By the time Danielle made it to the front door, Walt and Marie were already standing side by side a few feet from the doorway, anxious to get a look at the new guests. Danielle flashed them a grin and then threw open the door. The moment she saw the man standing next to the attractive blonde on her front porch, she froze. While she had expected Clint Marlow to resemble Walt, she hadn’t expected him to look exactly like Walt—if you didn’t consider his hair, which was cropped much shorter than Walt’s, or the modern clothing: new jeans and a long-sleeved blue golf shirt.

  “Hello. I assume this is Marlow House? There’s no sign.” Even the man’s voice was Walt’s.

  “Goodness, he looks and sounds just like you,” Marie exclaimed. “How peculiar!”

  After a moment of silence, the blonde drawled, “Can we come in?” There was the slightest hint of a Southern accent in her voice.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Danielle sputtered. “It’s just so strange.” She opened the door wider and stepped aside so they could enter. Still holding onto the doorknob, she looked at Clint and said, “It’s
just that I didn’t expect you to look and sound just like Walt.”

  “Sound like Walt?” the woman asked with a frown.

  Blushing, Danielle said, “I just meant how I imagined Walt might sound.”

  The man chuckled as he set his suitcase down on the floor and glanced around, his fiancée by his side. “You had me wondering there for a moment.”

  Danielle shut the front door, and when she turned to the couple, Clint held out his hand to her.

  “I assume you’re Danielle Boatman? I’m Clint Marlow, and this is my fiancée, Stephanie Mountifield.”

  Still blushing, Danielle accepted his hand in a perfunctory handshake. “Yes, I…” Danielle froze, unable to finish her sentence. She looked down at her hand holding Walt’s…no, Clint’s, she reminded herself. In all the time Danielle had known Walt, she had never physically touched him. Not flesh on flesh. There had been dream hops and energy that mimicked a physical touch, yet until this moment, she didn’t realize how lacking those other times had been.

  “Danielle, are you okay?” Walt finally asked.

  “Do you think you could return my fiancé’s hand now?” Stephanie asked.

  As if burned, Danielle snatched back her right hand, clasping it with her left one. She looked up into Clint’s blue eyes that could have been Walt’s.

  “Danielle, snap out of it!” Walt said harshly.

  With a shake of her head, Danielle moved out of her haze. Again blushing, she said, “I’m sorry. Yes, I am Danielle Boatman. I’m just a little overwhelmed at how much you look like your cousin. It’s bizarre.”

  “You did look like you just saw a ghost,” Clint said with a laugh.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Marlow.” Danielle turned to Stephanie and added, “And nice to meet you, Ms. Mountifield. I hope you both enjoy your stay here.”

  “Please, it’s just Clint and Stephanie,” Clint insisted. “I’d like to put our suitcases in our room before we have a look at the portraits.”

  “Joanne can take you both to your room. It’s upstairs.”

  “This way,” came a voice from behind them. The couple turned around and found a middle-aged woman standing in the hallway.

  “This is Joanne,” Danielle introduced them.

  “What happened in there?” Marie asked when she went into the parlor with Walt and Danielle.

  “I don’t know. But it was like Walt had suddenly come to life.” Danielle plopped down on the office chair and rubbed her forehead.

  “I was standing there the entire time,” Walt reminded her, sounding almost as annoyed as Stephanie had been when she had demanded Danielle release hold of Clint’s hand.

  “I know.” Danielle stopped rubbing her forehead and looked up at Walt. “I can’t explain it. It was surreal. I know he wears his hair differently, and he certainly doesn’t dress like you. But dang, he was you—in the flesh.”

  “But he’s not, Danielle,” Marie gently reminded her.

  Danielle’s brief infatuation with Clint Marlow abruptly ended thirty minutes later when she showed him and his fiancée to the library to view the portraits. It didn’t take long for her to see the differences between the two Marlow men.

  “What did my cousin do, spend all his time with his nose stuck in a book?” Clint asked after learning most of the books in the home library had once belonged to Walt. “No wonder his poor wife wanted to knock him off. If she hadn’t died herself, she could have claimed self-defense; he was boring her to death.”

  “I take it you don’t like to read?” Danielle asked.

  Clint shrugged. “Why waste your time reading? If it’s any good, it’ll be made into a movie anyway.”

  “Your cousin is a shmuck,” Marie grumbled from the sidelines.

  “I’d have to agree,” Walt said as he summoned a cigar.

  “He doesn’t seem that interested in looking at the portraits,” Marie noted.

  “I read Fifty Shades,” Stephanie said with a giggle, her hand reaching for Clint’s.

  “Yeah, baby, that is my kind of book,” Clint said with a raspy chuckle while squeezing Stephanie’s hand.

  “When is the artist arriving?” Danielle asked.

  Clint released Stephanie’s hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. She snuggled into his side. “Not until sometime tonight. Before seven, I think he said. Can you tell me where there’s a good restaurant? We’re starved.” Clint’s arm dropped briefly from Stephanie’s shoulder, and then his hand slapped her backside. “You hungry, baby?”

  “Yuck,” Danielle said after Clint and Stephanie left to find a restaurant. Joanne had also gone home for the day, leaving Danielle alone with Walt and Marie. The three sat together in the kitchen while Danielle ate a ham sandwich. “I wanted to tell those two to get a room, but then I remembered they had—here!” She laughed and shook her head.

  “In a way he reminds me a little of my friend Jack,” Walt said as he fiddled absently with his cigar.

  “You mean the Jack I met?” Danielle asked.

  Walt nodded the affirmative.

  “Who’s Jack?” Marie asked.

  “He’s the one who left the gold coins in your house across the street,” Walt told her.

  “How does Clint remind you of Jack?” Danielle asked.

  “Jack was that way with his women. Liked to show off, let everyone know she was his—make tasteless innuendos about their intimacies. I always felt if a man really cared for a woman, why would he want to disrespect her? Put her on display?” Walt shrugged and took a puff off his cigar.

  “It’s because you’re a gentleman,” Marie said.

  Walt chuckled. “Not so sure about that.”

  “I have to say I was proud of you, Walt,” Danielle said.

  He frowned. “Proud, why?”

  “He talked about ghosts and then made a tasteless joke about your death, and you didn’t smack him with anything.”

  Walt looked at Danielle and smiled. “Of course not. Now, had he been making those remarks about you…”

  The artist arrived at Marlow House a few minutes past seven that evening. Clint and Stephanie had already returned from dinner and were there to greet him. Danielle was surprised when they brought in the canvases for the reproductions.

  “You’ve already painted them?” Danielle asked in surprise when she saw the paintings almost identical to the ones in the library. Yet, on closer inspection, she realized they were far from complete.

  “There was no way I could finish two paintings of this size in just two weeks,” the artist explained. “I worked from the pictures you sent me, and I’ll work from the originals to finish them.”

  Ian and Lily walked over to Marlow House about twenty minutes after the arrival of the artist. While Lily compared the partially completed reproductions with the originals—fascinated by the artist’s skill—Ian was more intrigued by the artist himself.

  “What’s your name again?” Ian asked the man.

  “Jim Hill.”

  With narrowed eyes, Ian studied the man as he walked away to join Clint and Stephanie by the original portraits.

  “What’s wrong?” Danielle whispered to Ian out of earshot of the other people in the library.

  “His name is not Jim Hill,” Ian told her.

  Five

  Carla had just finished telling Adam and Bill that Pier Café’s Thursday lunch special was corned beef and cabbage, in honor of Saint Patrick’s Day, when Ian and Lily Bartley walked into the restaurant, followed by Joe Morelli and Ian’s sister, Kelly. The two couples walked by Adam and Bill, said hello, and then headed to a booth.

  “I heard Kelly moved in with Joe,” Carla whispered to Bill and Adam when the two couples were out of earshot.

  “I thought Morelli was still hot for Boatman?” Bill asked.

  Order pad in hand, Carla rolled her eyes. “That’s old news, Bill. Like last year.”

  Adam chuckled. “What’s wrong with you, Bill? Can’t you keep up? I think they’v
e been dating for over a year now.”

  Bill shrugged. “Like I give a crap about who Morelli is shacking up with? Give me the corned beef and cabbage.”

  “Me too,” Adam added.

  After Carla left the table, Adam asked, “Why are you so grouchy?”

  “Because I can’t figure out what’s wrong with your stupid electricity. I’m about to give up. Are you sure the power keeps going out? I’ve asked around, and none of the other businesses on your street remember the power going off for a minute. I spoke to the electric company, and no one else has reported a problem. It has to be something with your office wiring.”

  “That’s why I have you, to figure out this crap.” Adam picked up his coffee and took a drink.

  “It’s crap alright. So tell me, what are you doing when the power goes off?” Bill asked.

  Adam shrugged. “Just working on the computer.”

  “Does it happen every time you’re on the computer?”

  “No. Just when…” Adam paused a moment and then took another sip of coffee.

  “Just when what?” Bill asked.

  “Nothing. No, it doesn’t happen every time I’m on the computer.”

  On the opposite side of the diner from Bill and Adam, the two couples sat in a booth, Kelly and Joe on one side of the table and Ian and Lily on the other side.

  As Joe picked up the menus from the end of the table and started handing them out, he asked Lily, “Wasn’t there any school today?”

  Lily took a menu from Joe and said, “We had early release today.”

  “Don’t think I could teach even if I had early release every day,” Ian said, taking a menu from Joe. “I really hated teaching.”

  Kelly chuckled. “I remember.” She then set the menu Joe had handed her on the table and leaned forward to Ian and Lily and asked, “I want to know, does he really look that much like the portrait?”

  “Eerily so,” Lily told her. And he even sounds like Walt, Lily thought. While Lily was unable to see Walt during waking hours, he visited her frequently in dream hops, and she knew what his voice sounded like. Even Ian had met Walt in a dream hop. They both agreed Walt’s voice sounded like Clint Marlow’s.