The Ghost of Valentine Past Page 7

  Joe smiled. “Sorry, I don’t. But I’ll be happy to take you out to breakfast after you finish talking to the chief.”

  Danielle flashed him a kind smile. “Thanks, Joe. I appreciate the offer. But Chris is waiting for me. We drove over in my car.” Danielle watched as Joe sat back down behind his desk. He’d had a recent haircut, she thought. The style he normally wore reminded her a bit of an old-fashioned boy’s haircut, one that allowed his soft dark curls to remain. While this new cut was longer than a buzz cut, it was far shorter than Danielle had ever seen him wear his hair, and the curls were gone.

  “Are you okay, Danielle?”

  “Well, aside from the fact I got about an hour of sleep last night—if that—and someone was murdered in my house, I guess I’m terrific.”

  “It really does seem Marlow House wasn’t meant to be an inn.”

  Danielle frowned. “Why do you say that?”

  “Looking back, most of the bad things that have happened to you since you arrived never would have happened if you hadn’t pursued the bed and breakfast. Opening your house to strangers just invites danger.”

  “Now you’re making up rhymes?” Danielle smirked.

  “This is serious, Danielle. You know what I mean.”

  She let out a weary sigh. “Unfortunately, yes I do. But don’t start that again. Please, not right now. I’m too flipping exhausted to argue with you.”

  “I don’t want to argue with you,” Joe insisted.

  “Sure sounded that way. And it’s always the same argument.”

  “I just worry about you, Danielle. I won’t apologize for that. You have no idea how I felt when I heard Morris had been brutally murdered under your roof. What would’ve happened had you walked into the parlor at the wrong time? It might be you lying in the morgue right now.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Joe. And trust me, that thought has crossed my mind too.”

  “How about I take you away from all this ugliness—at least for a couple hours. Let me take you out to dinner tonight. You need a break.”

  “Thanks, Joe. But honestly, all I want to do is go home and crawl back into bed and sleep. Which will not be so easy, considering all that dang caffeine I consumed this morning.”

  “Then let me take you out tomorrow night.”

  Danielle studied Joe for a moment before responding. “Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.”

  “Do you have a date already?”

  “Umm…no…but…well, restaurants are always swamped on Valentine’s Day.”

  “I’m sure I can get us in somewhere.”

  “Thanks for the invitation, Joe. But I just don’t think it would be such a terrific idea.”

  “Ah, come on Danielle. We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

  “Sure we are.”

  “Then what will dinner with a friend hurt?”

  “On Valentine’s Day?” Danielle shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. We are friends, Joe. But just friends. Nothing else.”

  Joe leaned back in his chair and studied Danielle. “It’s Chris, isn’t it?”

  “Chris has nothing to do with this.”

  “I think he’s dangerous, Danielle. I believe he murdered Morris.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. There is no way Chris would’ve killed him. He had no motive.”

  Joe then proceeded to share his theory with Danielle—the same theory he had given Ian. When he was done, Danielle silently stood up.

  “Where are you going?” Joe asked.

  “I imagine the chief is off the phone by now.” Danielle turned toward the door, but then paused and turned briefly back to Joe. “You’re wrong about Chris. Please don’t do this again.” Without waiting for a response, Danielle left the office.

  Chapter Ten

  “I swear, Joe drives me insane,” Danielle told MacDonald when she entered his office a few minutes later. She shut the door behind her. Without waiting for an invitation, she sat down across from him. They were alone.

  “Let me guess, Joe told you his theory of who murdered Peter Morris,” MacDonald asked.

  “You mean how Chris killed Morris in a fit of rage and then left him in the parlor for a couple hours, waiting for everyone to fall asleep so he could sneak back later and dispose of the body?”

  “It’s not a bad theory, since Morris did come to see Chris.”

  Danielle slumped down in the chair. “I suppose from Joe’s limited perspective, it is a reasonable theory.”

  “Of course…” MacDonald absently tapped his fingertips on the desktop. “I’d have to ask myself, wouldn’t Chris worry about Peter Morris’ ghost sticking around and telling you or Walt what he’d done?”

  “Well, actually Morris’ ghost did stick around.”

  The chief leaned forward. “You saw Morris’ ghost?”

  Danielle shook her head. “No, Walt did.”

  “Did he say who killed him?”

  “No. But it’s always possible he’s talked to Walt since we’ve been here. Although, the thought of Morris’ spirit lingering around Marlow House rather freaks me out.”

  “I can’t say I blame you. You already went through that with Stoddard.”

  Danielle leaned toward the desk. “I’ve a question for you. One I couldn’t ask Brian.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Was there a second body? Did your people find another man’s body?”

  He frowned. “A second body? Why would you ask that?”

  “Because last night—technically early this morning—Walt saw two spirits. One was Peter Morris, and the other was a younger man Walt didn’t recognize. I have to wonder, if two ghosts suddenly appear, and we find the body of one—shouldn’t there be another body out there?”

  “If there’s a second body, we haven’t found it. Tell me what you know—what you couldn’t tell Brian.”

  “I was having this lovely dream hop in Hawaii,” she said with a sigh. “At least I think it was Hawaii.”

  MacDonald frowned. “Dream hop?”

  “Some spirits have the ability to visit people in their dreams—even people unlike me, who can’t normally see spirits.”

  MacDonald smiled. “I sometimes dream about my grandmother. Those dreams always feel a bit...different.”

  “I assume it’s the grandmother I met at the cemetery?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me if it wasn’t a regular dream. I call it a dream hop. Walt does it with Lily sometimes. It gives them a chance to have a real visit, where she can see and hear him. And sometimes, well, sometimes he does it with me.”

  “Why would Walt have to dream hop with you?”

  Danielle smiled softly. “Because in a dream, you make your own reality. We can set sail on the sea, kick back on a sandy beach, or go sky diving.”

  “Seriously?”

  Danielle grinned. “Yep. Last night I was lounging on a tropical beach when I started to get cold. Unfortunately, in a dream our body is still vulnerable to the real world. My blankets had fallen to the floor, and I was freezing. Instead of waking up, Walt offered to leave the dream world and return to my room, and cover me up. When he got there, he saw the two spirits.”

  “They were together?”

  “No. He saw the first one in my bedroom. It was the younger man. Walt asked him a couple questions, but he just disappeared. So, Walt headed downstairs, looking for him, and that’s when he saw Peter Morris’ spirit, running down the hall. Morris said something about having to get out of there and then vanished.”

  “So what did Walt do? Did he find the body?”

  Danielle shook her head. “No. He decided to wake up Chris. I guess he thought Chris could help him figure it out without waking me up. Chris was asleep, when Walt went into his bedroom. That’s how I know Chris was telling the truth about finding Morris later, after he thought Morris had left.”

  “Was Walt with Chris when he found the body?”


  “No. Chris went to investigate the parlor, because that’s the direction Walt had seen Morris coming from. Walt went to wake me up. I had just woken up when I heard Heather scream. And you know the rest.”

  “In all fairness to Joe, what you told me really doesn’t discredit Joe’s theory. If Walt was with you in a dream, it was possible Chris killed Morris in a fit of rage—not thinking out the possible consequences of his actions.”

  “And then just left his body in the parlor and went to bed? I don’t know about you, but if I’d just killed someone in a fit of rage, I couldn’t go to bed and fall asleep. And according to Walt, Chris was sound asleep when he woke him up.”

  “I’m not saying I agree with the theory, just that it’s not without merit.” The chief reached over and snatched a manila folder from the corner of his desk.

  Danielle watched MacDonald open the folder. “Maybe Walt has found out something since we left him.”

  “I wanted to ask you a few questions about one of your guests.”

  “Which one?”

  “David Hilton.”

  “David? What about him?”

  “We did a brief background check on the couple staying for the weekend, to see if anything came up.”

  “You mean a connection to Earthbound Spirits or Morris?” she asked.

  “I remember reading an article a while back, about how Earthbound Spirit’s headquarters was bequeathed to the organization by Helen Hilton—along with her entire estate, which was a considerable fortune. It caused quite a stir at the time, family sued, lost.”

  “Hilton? As in the hotel chain?”

  “No relationship to the hotel chain. But there is a connection to David Hilton. He’s Helen Hilton’s youngest grandson.”

  “No kidding? Does this mean he was involved with a lawsuit against Earthbound Spirits?”

  “He and his siblings.”

  “He didn’t mention anything last night about his connection to Morris,” Danielle murmured.

  “No, no he didn’t.” From the folder, MacDonald removed a printout of an online news article regarding the lawsuit. He handed it to Danielle.

  After she read the article, she tossed it back on his desk. “While David had a reason to hate the man, I can’t imagine he was involved in his murder. How would he have known Morris was going to be at the house? Why would he have killed Morris under the same roof he was staying? That’s even more implausible than Joe’s theory.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t pre-meditated. Maybe David came downstairs to get a drink of water—like Heather did later that evening. He saw Morris waiting in the entry, after Heather had gone up to bed and Chris was in the kitchen looking for you. For whatever reason, he confronted Morris, wanted to tell him what he thought of him. The two men went into the parlor and things escalated, got out of control, and David killed him.”

  “And how did David conveniently get ahold of Chris’ fishing knife? Chris’ tackle box was on the back porch. I assume whoever used it to kill Morris—assuming it is the same knife—stole it earlier and intended to use it to frame Chris,” Danielle said.

  “I suppose that is possible, Danielle,” MacDonald conceded. “But according to Chris, his knife had been missing for a few days. Perhaps it wasn’t stolen. Maybe he misplaced it—set it in the parlor and forgot it. Or maybe whoever borrowed it earlier did the same thing. And when David was confronted with Morris in the parlor, he was just so angry and happened to find the knife…”

  “And managed to slit Morris’ throat? Just tell me Chief, where’s the blood evidence? Your people have gone through the house; did you find any bloody clothes that might’ve belonged to David? Now that I think about it, that would go for Chris too. I can’t imagine it possible to cut someone’s throat without getting blood on them. While Chris had some on his hands when we found him with Morris, I’m pretty sure he didn’t have any on him when Walt woke him up. I can’t imagine going to bed in bloody clothes. And if he did, that blood would be transferred to the sheets.”

  “It doesn’t mean Hilton wasn’t able to dispose of his clothes before the body was found several hours later. He could have buried them on the beach—they could have gone out with the tide. There’s a number of possibilities.”

  “I suppose we’ll have to wait then, to see if any clothes wash up on shore.”

  “So, who do you think did it?” he asked.

  “I honestly have no idea.” Danielle shook her head. “But if you would just let me go home, maybe we’ll get the answers we need. When can I go home, by the way?”

  “When I left your house, they had a couple more hours, maybe more. I’ll call you as soon as you can go back.”

  The chief’s phone began to ring. He picked it up and looked to see who was calling. He raised his hand briefly to Danielle, signaling he was about to take the call. A few minutes later, when the call ended, he smiled up to Danielle.

  “If Walt doesn’t have any new information for us, maybe we won’t have to wait for any bloody clothes to wash up,” he told her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Apparently, they found a bloody fingerprint on the rod iron fencing along the front of Marlow House, down by the street.”

  “Do they know who it belongs to?” Danielle asked.

  “My guess, the killer.”

  Chapter Eleven

  David and Arlene turned down Lily and Ian’s invitation to join them for breakfast. None of them were allowed to return to Marlow House. According to Police Chief MacDonald, they wouldn’t be able to do that until after three that afternoon. By the time David and Arlene left the police station, Lily and Ian were already gone, but Danielle and Chris were still inside, talking to officers.

  Arlene silently stared out the side window of the Honda Accord, as David steered the vehicle down the road, looking for somewhere to stop for breakfast.

  With both hands firmly on the steering wheel, David glanced briefly at Arlene and asked, “I thought you’d look happier.”

  Still gazing out the side window, she said, “Maybe we should go home now.”

  “Just because Morris is dead, it doesn’t mean this is over for us. Maybe this isn’t what we planned, but I don’t see the point of leaving now.”

  A few minutes later, David pulled into a restaurant parking lot. After he turned off the engine, they both got out of the vehicle, neither of them saying a word. They were just about to step onto the walkway leading to the front door of the restaurant when they heard someone call out, “Arlene!”

  They both paused and looked in the direction of the voice. Arlene reached out and touched David’s wrist. “Go on in, and get us a table.”

  “Who’s that?” David watched the man walk toward them.

  “Just someone I know.” Arlene gave David a gentle nudge, urging him to continue to the restaurant. Without another word, David turned and hurried up the walkway and entered the building.

  “I wondered if that was you!” the man greeted when he reached Arlene, giving her a quick hug.

  “Adam, Adam Nichols. It’s been a long time,” Arlene said when the hug ended. They stood together on the sidewalk, their gazes locked, and his hands lightly holding her fingertips.

  “You look amazing. Of course, you always did,” Adam told her. He gave her fingers a quick squeeze and then released his hold.

  She took a step back, her eyes still on his. “You look pretty good yourself. I’m really sorry about Isabella.”

  “You heard?” Adam asked.

  “You knew I would, considering everything. Anyway, it was in all the papers.”

  “You probably also heard, Isabella and I hadn’t been together for a long time. Almost a year when she died.”

  Arlene readjusted the strap of her handbag, which hung over her right shoulder. “Well, you know what I always said: Earthbound Spirits had a way of destroying relationships.”

  “I don’t know, I always thought they were responsible for…” Adam didn’t finish the sentence.


  “For us?” Arlene asked in a whisper.

  Adam shrugged in reply.

  “You could have called me after…well…after you and Isabella broke it off.” Slipping her handbag strap off her shoulder, she clutched it in her hands, nervously fidgeting with the leather loop.

  “I considered. But then, I didn’t think you would’ve been thrilled to hear from me.”

  Glancing down at her purse, Arlene sighed. Looking back up into Adam’s face, she said, “Yeah, you’re probably right. Things were always a little complicated for us.”

  “So…” Adam nodded toward the restaurant door, “your boyfriend…husband?”

  “Not married,” Arlene explained. “He’s a…friend…we’re spending the weekend in Frederickport.”

  Adam shoved his hands into his coat pockets, glanced from Arlene to the restaurant door, and then back to Arlene. “Ahh, a romantic Valentine’s weekend.”

  Arlene shrugged. “So what about you? Any woman finally get you to settle down?”

  “No. Still single. I’m not the settle down type.”

  Arlene looked over to the restaurant. “I guess I should go. I imagine David’s got us a table by now.”

  “Yeah, and he’s probably wondering what’s keeping you so long.”

  Arlene flashed Adam a weak smile. “It really was good seeing you again.”

  “You too. Have a nice weekend.” Adam leaned over and brushed a kiss over her cheek.

  Flashing him a final smile, she said, “Take care of yourself.”

  When Arlene turned from Adam and started toward the restaurant, he called out, “Arlene, wait!”

  She paused a moment and looked at him.

  “I was sorry to hear about your brother,” he called out.

  “I’d understand if you really weren’t,” she told him.

  Adam watched as Arlene turned from him and made her way into the restaurant. When the door closed, Adam mumbled to himself, “Now where are you having breakfast? Not here.”