The Ghost Who Dream Hopped Page 4

  Danielle reached out and took hold of his left hand, taking it in hers. “I think we all go through times when we feel like an outsider. I don’t think it’s a feeling unique to your situation. Think of this as a grand adventure. Consider yourself an explorer—a time traveler. And you know I’ll be here for you. You aren’t alone.”

  Walt placed his right hand over hers and looked into her face. “I love you, Danielle,” he whispered.

  Her eyes widened and she swallowed nervously. Feeling a flush of heat, she blinked several times to prevent tears from falling. “I love you too,” she whispered.

  Walt broke into a smile and leaned forward. He quickly brushed a kiss over her lips and then pulled away. “Perhaps we should go into the museum before we do something that might shock the good citizens of Frederickport.”

  Walt hadn’t noticed the Packard Coupe when they had first parked in front of the museum. His mind had been preoccupied. It wasn’t until he and Danielle had gotten out of her car and started for the entrance did he notice the vintage vehicle parked in a space designated museum employee parking near the front entrance. He came to an abrupt stop and stared at the vehicle.

  “That’s my car!” Walt exclaimed.

  “Is that a Packard Coupe?” Danielle asked, now circling the vintage vehicle to get a better look.

  “It’s not just a Packard Coupe, it is my Packard Coupe!” Walt insisted. Standing on his good leg, he held his crutches in his right hand while he used the left hand to balance himself against the Packard while he hopped around the vehicle, inspecting its exterior.

  Danielle paused and looked over at Walt. “You probably shouldn’t touch it. People get really uptight about anyone touching their car. Especially a car like that.”

  “I told you, this isn’t any Packard. This is my car!”

  “Don’t be silly, Walt. Your car’s been gone for over ninety years.”

  Pausing by a side window, Walt leaned down and peered into the vehicle. “This is my car. I know it.”

  “Okay, maybe it was your car. I suppose it’s entirely possible it was sold locally and remained in town. But it’s not your car now.”

  “I need to find out who has it,” Walt told her.

  When Walt and Danielle entered the museum a few minutes later, they found Ben Smith doing docent duty. The elderly man greeted them, and Danielle made introductions.

  “They say you look just like Walt Marlow—I mean the other Walt Marlow,” Ben said with a chuckle. “But I don’t really see the resemblance.”

  “It’s probably the beard,” Danielle told Ben.

  “True. There was no beard in the portrait.” Ben studied Walt for a moment. “Yes, now I see it. Around the eyes. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Marlow. Danielle told me you were interested in seeing the displays about your family.”

  “Please call me Walt. I was wondering, first, about the Packard Coupe outside,” Walt said.

  “Ahh, she is a beauty, isn’t she?” Ben smiled. “I like to bring her to the museum sometimes when I have docent duty. She’s a real attention-getter. Always gets new people to stop and come into the museum.”

  “The car belongs to you?” Danielle asked.

  “Yes. It was my father’s.”

  “Your father bought it from the Marlow estate?” Walt asked.

  Ben frowned. “Marlow estate? Why would you ask that?”

  “It’s just that Walt Marlow had a Packard Coupe when he died,” Danielle said quickly.

  “Did he?” Ben shrugged. “My father never said anything about buying it from the estate.”

  Danielle looked to Walt and said, “Ben’s father was the court-appointed attorney for my aunt Brianna after her mother was killed.”

  “Do you know who your father bought the vehicle from?” Walt asked.

  “No. I wasn’t born at the time. I always heard he was the original owner.”

  Ben glanced toward the gift store after its phone rang. “Please excuse me, I have to get that. I’m the only one here.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll take Walt in so he can look around.”

  A few minutes later Walt and Danielle stood near the Eva Thorndike display. Instead of looking at the exhibit, Walt glanced up toward the front of the museum where Ben had gone to answer the phone. “What did you say his father’s name was?”

  Danielle shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t remember ever hearing his first name.”

  “What’s his last name again?”

  “Smith,” Danielle told him.

  “The father was an attorney?”

  Danielle nodded. “Yes.”

  With a furrowed brow, Walt considered the surname for a moment. Finally, he blurted, “Benjamin Smith.”

  “I guess that’s Ben’s real name.”

  “No. His father. His father was Benjamin Smith. I remember him.”

  Danielle shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Ben was named after his father.”

  “His father was a weasel,” Walt said.

  “Weasel? Ben always speaks so highly of him.”

  “Of course. He was his father. What do you expect him to say?”

  “How was he a weasel? I always got the impression he was respected, which is why the court appointed him as my aunt’s lawyer.”

  “Respected?” Walt laughed. “There was a reason I drove all the way to Portland for an attorney. I certainly was not about to use Quiz, and back then he was the only attorney in town.”

  “Quiz?” Danielle asked with a frown.

  “It was his nickname back then. Something he picked up in college.”

  “If you say he was the only lawyer in town, maybe that’s the real reason they appointed him Brianna’s attorney,” Danielle suggested.

  “He was also tight with Roger.” Roger had murdered Walt—he had also been the twin brother of Walt’s wife, Angela.

  “Why didn’t you ever mention it before?”

  Walt shrugged. “I never really gave much thought to your aunt’s attorney from back then.”

  Danielle glanced toward the doorway leading to the museum store.

  “I’d like to find out how that palooka got his hands on my car,” Walt grumbled.

  “Ben’s not a palooka. He’s a nice man.”

  “I was talking about his father.”

  “If he was the original owner, as Ben suggested, then I assume he bought it from a dealer.”

  Walt shook his head. “The Benjamin Smith I knew couldn’t afford to buy a car, and certainly not a Packard. When I died, he was still living in a room he rented above the drugstore—it doubled as his office. I don’t see how he could have possibly been the original owner considering the year of that car. It would mean he had it when I was still alive. He didn’t. That’s my Packard Coupe, Danielle.”

  Six

  “Mom, I really wish you would move to Portland,” Roxane told her mother, Beverly Klein, as the two talked on the phone Wednesday afternoon.

  Beverly sat in a wooden rocking chair on her front porch, sipping a tall glass of iced tea, her cellphone to her ear. “Dear, we’ve gone over this already.”

  “I know, Mom. But after Dad died, I thought you were going to sell the house and move here.”

  “I wasn’t thinking straight back then. At the time, with your dad gone, I just thought I needed to pack up and leave. But that would have been rash, and I’m glad I came to my senses. I feel very comfortable in this house and in Frederickport.”

  “I hate thinking of you living there all alone.”

  “If I move to Portland, I’d still be living all alone.”

  “But you’d live closer to me,” Roxane reminded her.

  “That’s sweet you want me to live closer to you. But you have your life, and I have mine.”

  “Mom…are you seeing someone?”

  Beverly laughed. “Would you mind?”

  “Goodness no! Who is he?”

  “It’s nothing serious. But I’ve been out a few times with Brian Henderson.”<
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  “Brian Henderson? You mean the cop?”

  “Yes.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Why do you sound surprised?” Beverly took a sip of her tea and waited for Roxane’s answer.

  “I don’t know. I guess I never imagined you with a cop before. Doesn’t seem your type. Although from what I remember, Brian Henderson is good looking.”

  “I think so.”

  “So what’s the deal with you two?”

  “Deal? We’ve been out a few times. In fact, he’s coming over this afternoon and helping me get some boxes down.”

  “What boxes?”

  “The ones your father put up in the rafters in the garage. I’m determined to get that garage cleaned out before summer.”

  “I thought you hired some boy to do that?”

  “He was useless. Anyway, are you sure you don’t want any of your dad’s fishing equipment?”

  “No. You know I don’t fish. Did you ask Steven?”

  “Yes. He doesn’t want anything of your father’s.”

  Beverly could hear Roxane’s heavy sigh over the phone.

  “So tell me all about Brian Henderson,” Roxane said, changing the subject.

  “Not much to tell. We’ve been out a few times, but don’t get carried away. He’s nice company, but not someone I see myself settling down with. Between you and me—he’s not really what I’m looking for.”

  “No offense to Brian Henderson, but I think you can do better.”

  Beverly laughed and asked, “I thought you just said he was good looking?”

  “Yeah, but he is also a cop. I can’t imagine he makes much money. Like I said, you can do way better than a cop, Mom.”

  “For the time being, I’m just enjoying his company. I’m certainly not in any hurry to rush into another relationship. I was with your father for a long time.”

  Beverly had just gotten off the telephone when Brian Henderson pulled up and parked in front of her house. Setting her cellphone and the half-full glass on the table next to the rocker, she stood up and gave him a wave as she started down the front steps to meet him.

  “I didn’t expect you so early,” Beverly greeted him when she reached Brian at the sidewalk.

  “I wanted to swing by and see if we could move those boxes now. I’m afraid something came up and I can’t come over later.”

  “Well, sure. But if you would rather do it another day…”

  Brian started up the walk with Beverly. “No, let’s do it now if that’s okay with you.”

  Ten minutes later Brian stood on a ladder in Beverly’s garage, lifting boxes from the rafters and handing each one down to her. She set the boxes on the floor in the middle of the garage.

  “They’re pretty dusty,” Brian noted as he handed one of them to Beverly. The next box he grabbed was an old wooden apple box with the Marymoor label. Brian hadn’t seen an old Marymoor apple box in years. The orchard had been located outside Frederickport and had been cut down years ago to make room for houses. As it turned out, Beverly had three Marymoor apple boxes in the rafters.

  After Brian finished lifting down the boxes, he stood by the ladder and clapped his hands together to remove the dust. He didn’t want to wipe his hands off on his slacks. Beverly grabbed a rag off the workbench, gave it a shake, and then wiped her hands before handing the rag to Brian.

  “Thanks,” Brian said, taking the rag and giving his hands a good dusting.

  “I really appreciate your help.” Hands on hips, Beverly looked down at the boxes and sighed.

  “I wish I could stick around and help more.”

  Beverly smiled up at Brian. “Trust me, you helped by just getting those down. Steve stuck them up there ages ago. I have no idea what’s in them. Funny thing, I had a dream about him last night.”

  “Do you dream about him often?”

  She shook her head. “No. In fact, I think that’s the first dream I’ve had about him since he died.”

  “It’s probably because you were planning to go through his things.” Brian nodded to the boxes.

  “Maybe. It was a silly dream. I was sitting on the roof of Marlow House with Danielle and Steve.”

  “Sitting on the roof?” Brian laughed and then added, “Danielle was in the dream?”

  “Yes. Steve was sitting between us.”

  “What happened?”

  “I pushed them off the roof.” Beverly laughed.

  Brian arched his brows. “You pushed them off the roof? Why?”

  “I guess because I found them annoying.” She smiled at Brian. “But please don’t tell Danielle. I don’t want her to be mad at me.”

  Brian chuckled. “I promise.”

  Beverly walked Brian to his car and thanked him again for helping her. She stood on the sidewalk and watched him drive away. Before returning to the garage, she made her way up to her front porch and snatched the glass and cellphone she had forgotten on the side table next to the rocker. She headed for the side door leading into her garage. When she reached it, the neighbor’s cat, Snowball, greeted her.

  Such an unoriginal name, Beverly thought as she looked down at the large ball of white fur meowing up to her.

  “Go home, cat.” Beverly dumped what was left of her tea on Snowball’s head, sending the cat scurrying away. “And stay out of my flowers!” she shouted after the cat. “It’s not a damn litter box!”

  Once inside the garage again, Beverly retrieved the dust rag and began wiping down the boxes. While dusting off the apple boxes, she noticed Steve had written museum on their lids in pencil. It was barely visible. Removing the lids from the apple boxes, she noticed they were stuffed with crumpled documents, photographs and what looked to be newspaper clippings.

  “Why are these here?” she muttered to herself. Reaching into one of the boxes, she picked up a stack of newspaper clippings held together by a paperclip. Removing the clip, she began flipping through the tattered slips of newsprint. Someone had jotted dates on a few of them in pencil. It appeared the stack of clippings were all from 1925 to 1930—if the handwritten notations were correct. Considering the subject matter of the articles and photographs contained in the clippings, she assumed the handwritten dates were either correct or a good guess. One thing she was fairly certain of, Steve hadn’t written the dates on the news clippings. It was not his handwriting.

  Sorting through them, she paused when a headline jumped out at her: Marlow Estate Heiress to Marry. Included in one article was a photograph of an attractive couple dressed in the fashions of the 1920s. According to the article, the bride-to-be in the photograph was Katherine O’Malley, with her fiancé, Roger Calvert, who was the brother-in-law to the late Walt Marlow.

  “This is interesting,” Beverly muttered. “I wonder if Danielle would want this? It might make up for me shoving her off the roof.” Beverly laughed at her own joke.

  The last person Danielle expected to be ringing her doorbell late Wednesday afternoon was Beverly Klein. Danielle opened the door and found her standing on the front porch, a red wagon filled with three wooden boxes at her side.

  “Beverly,” Danielle said in surprise, glancing down at the wagon and boxes.

  “I suppose I should have called first. But when I decide to do something, I tend to steam forward and get to it,” Beverly said cheerfully.

  Like when you decided to poison your husband, Danielle thought. She flashed Beverly a weak smile and asked, “What’s in the boxes?”

  “Can I come in? I’ll explain.”

  “Oh, certainly.” Danielle blushed and opened the door wider, making room for Beverly to enter, as she pulled the wagon behind her.

  “Don’t worry, the wagon may be old—it belonged to Steven Jr.—but I wiped it down before I put it in my car. Same for the boxes.”

  A few minutes later Danielle led Beverly and her wagon into the living room, where they both sat down—Beverly on the sofa with the wagon nearby and Danielle on a chair facing her.

  “I’ve been
cleaning out the garage,” Beverly explained. “Steve had a ridiculous number of boxes stored in the rafters, and I finally got around to going through them. These three were marked museum. He must have put them up there and simply forgotten about them. Looks like they’ve been there a while.”

  “Shouldn’t you hand them over to the museum?” Danielle asked.

  “I figured if the museum wanted them, they wouldn’t be stored in my garage. Steve was always doing some sort of research. Looks like most of the articles and notes have to do with Marlow House. I thought you might want to look through it, and then what you don’t want, you can just give to the museum.”

  Danielle perked up. “Really? About Marlow House?”

  Beverly glanced over to the boxes and then looked back to Danielle. “I found one news clipping about the impending marriage of Katherine O’Malley. Wasn’t she the one you inherited Marlow House through?”

  “Indirectly. From her daughter.” Danielle eyed the boxes curiously.

  “If you want them, you can have them. It will make me feel terrific knowing there are three less boxes I have to deal with.” Beverly smiled.

  “Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ll do what you suggested. Maybe I’ll just photocopy what I want and then give the originals to the museum.”

  “Frankly, I don’t really care what you do with the junk. But I thought it might make up for me pushing you off the roof.” Beverly laughed.

  Danielle’s eyes widened. She stared at Beverly. “Excuse me?”

  Flashing Danielle another grin, Beverly sat back on the sofa and said, “And here I told Brian not to tell you what I’d done, and I go and spill it. I’ve never been good at keeping secrets.” She laughed again.

  “I don’t understand,” Danielle said uneasily.

  Beverly giggled and then waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t pay any attention to me. I’m just being silly. You see, I had a dream last night and you were in it.”

  Danielle absently licked her lips. “A dream?”

  “You know how crazy dreams can be. Steve was there too.”