The Ghost Who Stayed Home Read online

  MacDonald looked at Brian. “Oh, come on, do you two still have an issue with Chris? I thought you guys got over that.”

  Joe shrugged. “Brian heard Chris threaten that woman, and she disappeared. I have to admit that still bothers me.”

  “He has a point,” Brian chimed in. “I’m the one who overheard that conversation, and I have to agree with Joe. There is something more there.”

  “I thought you told me the woman herself insisted you misunderstood,” the chief reminded them.

  The person they were discussing was a guest who had mysteriously showed up at Marlow House over Christmas. She was a young woman who had called herself Anna Williams. What Joe and Brian didn’t know, Anna was really Trudy Ann—a spirit who had attached herself to Chris and in some way—which the chief still could not understand—had led those around her to believe she was in fact a flesh and blood woman. She wasn’t, and when she suddenly vanished, the mystery of her disappearance continued to haunt Joe and Brian, especially considering the fact Brian had overheard Chris threatening the woman. Yet it was not a woman Chris threatened, it was a spirit. Edward MacDonald knew the truth.

  The chief stood there a moment, again reminded that two of his officers seemed unable to let go of their suspicions. He decided the only thing he could do was lie. It seemed as if he had been doing a lot of that recently—ever since Danielle Boatman had come into his life.

  “Do you guys trust me?” the chief asked.

  Brian looked at his boss and frowned. “Of course we do. But I’m not sure what that has to do about our feelings concerning Chris Glandon—or as you prefer we call him, Chris Johnson.”

  “This has to stay between the three of us,” the chief told them.

  Curious, both Joe and Brian stared at the chief.

  “Anna Williams is not dead. She’s in witness protection. It has absolutely nothing to do with Chris.”

  “Witness protection?” Joe asked. “Why?”

  “I can’t say.” I prefer to keep my lies as simple as possible.

  “So Chris really had nothing to do with her disappearance?” Brian asked.

  “Nothing. And like I said, you can’t mention this to anyone. No one. If you do, it could endanger her life.”

  The three stood there a moment while Joe and Brian digested what they had just heard. Finally, Brian said, “Joe, I think you’re going to a dude ranch.”

  “I suppose…” Joe muttered.

  WHEN THE CHIEF returned to his office, he closed his door and called Danielle on the phone.

  “She’s in witness protection?” Danielle said with a laugh after MacDonald recounted his conversation with Joe and Brian.

  “You go ahead and laugh. But I really hate lying.”

  “I understand. But trust me, if you tell them she was really a ghost who moved on to the next level, they might be going to your supervisor, demanding you undergo a psychiatric evaluation.”

  “I know. But I still hate it.”

  “Thanks for getting them off Chris’s back. I guess this means Joe and Kelly are going with us?”

  “Yes. Although, I was surprised Chris asked him in the first place, considering everything.”

  “To be honest, I think it was more of an impulsive invite. Had he thought about it for a moment—remembering that Kelly would be asking Joe to go—he probably wouldn’t have asked. Or, knowing Chris, I suppose it’s possible he would have. He might have seen it as his opportunity to win Joe over.”

  “Did you ask Chris why he invited her?”

  “No. We were over at Ian’s when he asked her, and he left before me. We really haven’t had an opportunity to discuss it. I couldn’t really ask him with Ian and Kelly standing there. Although Lily seemed to think it was amusing. But that was because I’d briefly dated Joe.”

  “You think Chris cares what Joe thinks about him?”

  “It’s not that he cares exactly—like wanting people to like you—but I know from personal experience, life tends to be easier when the local police aren’t suspicious of your every move—especially for people like me and Chris.”

  “Understood.”

  “So is Carol Ann all excited about the trip?”

  “I don’t know how excited she is. But I know she’s out buying cowboy boots right now.”

  SAMUEL HAYMAN’S JEWELRY STORE, located next door to the bank, had closed down during the summer. The jewelry store, originally founded by Samuel’s grandfather, had been a regular fixture of Frederickport since the twenties. But now, Samuel was serving time after a plea deal for stealing the diamonds and emeralds from the Missing Thorndike, a valuable necklace owned by Danielle Boatman and currently housed in a safety deposit box in the bank next door to Samuel’s former store.

  What had once been the location of the Hayman jewelry store remained vacant for months, until a new business opened in the fall: West Portland Shoes. There were other shops in Frederickport that sold shoes, but West Portland was the only one that carried cowboy boots.

  Beverly Klein, an attractive well-dressed woman in her forties, was on her way to the bank, where her husband had been manager—until his recent fatal fall off the Frederickport Pier after going into anaphylactic shock when he unfortunately ate tamales she had stuffed with crabmeat. Beverly hadn’t intended to kill him—just to punish him for his inability to keep his pants zipped up. But now that he was gone, she was surprised she didn’t miss him as much as she had expected she would.

  Headed to the bank to pick up some personal items her late husband, Steve, had left there, her attention was distracted when she walked by West Portland’s storefront window and noticed a cute little pair of red shoes. Instead of continuing to the bank, she made her way into the shoe store.

  “Beverly, hi,” a familiar voice called out when she entered the store. Turning in the direction of the voice, Beverly found Carol Ann Peterson sitting in a chair, trying on a pair of cowboy boots.

  “Hello, Carol Ann.” Beverly’s gaze dropped to the boots Carol Ann was fitting onto her stockinged feet. “For some reason, I just never pictured you in cowboy boots.”

  Carol Ann laughed. “I think the last time I had a pair of cowboy boots was when I was in grade school. They were a birthday present, as I recall. Wore those shoes everywhere.”

  “Any special occasion for this pair? You taking up riding? Line dancing?” Beverly picked up one of the red shoes she had been admiring.

  “I’m going to a dude ranch in Texas,” Carol Ann said excitedly.

  “Really?” Beverly sat down in the empty chair next to Carol Ann, still holding the red shoe.

  “Yes. We’re going the last week of this month.”

  “We? Who are you going with? Anyone I know?” Beverly smiled.

  “Ed MacDonald.” With the boots now on her feet, Carol Ann stood up and took several steps to test the fit.

  Beverly arched her brows. “The chief? Really? I thought…”

  Carol Ann waved her hand dismissively at Beverly and sat back down. “We worked everything out.”

  Beverly chuckled and muttered under her breath, “I bet.”

  “This trip was sort of a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

  “My, I didn’t realize the police chief did so well. Didn’t you two go to Hawaii a while back?”

  Carol Ann shrugged. “Well, this trip really isn’t costing us anything.”

  “Even better…” Beverly smirked.

  “A friend of Ed’s—Chris Johnson—he dates Danielle Boatman, I believe…”

  “I didn’t realize Danielle was seeing anyone.”

  “I just assume they must be dating since she’s going with him. Eight of us are going—on a private charter plane.”

  “How did you swing that?”

  “Chris recently got a job with some nonprofit organization that’s opening its foundation offices in town—Glandon Foundation.”

  Beverly tossed the red shoe on the empty chair next to her and sat up a little straighter before leaning closer
to Carol Ann. “Really?”

  “Yeah. From what I understand, the foundation hired Chris to find a building—they bought the Gusarov Estate. He’s been over there setting up the offices, and I guess he’ll be managing it.”

  “The Glandon Foundation, you say?”

  “Yes. I believe that’s what it’s called. In appreciation for all his hard work, they gave him eight tickets for a dude ranch in Texas. It’s some kind of fundraiser for saving wild horses. They even chartered a plane for Chris and his guests. Nice perk, huh?”

  “Interesting…We are talking about that very attractive man who bought a house on Beach Drive, not far from Marlow House? Amazing blue eyes, blondish hair, looks like he should be on the book cover of a romance novel?”

  Carol Ann laughed. “Yes, that’s him.”

  “I’ve met him. How in the world did he land a job like that? I thought he was some out-of-work beach bum.”

  Carol Ann shrugged. “He isn’t out of work now.”

  “Hmm…” Curious, Beverly pulled her smartphone from her purse. Holding it in her hand, she started an Internet search. “Glandon, you say?”

  “What are you looking up?” Carol Ann asked.

  Instead of answering, Beverly continued to search. A moment later she began to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Enlarging a photograph on the small screen, she handed the phone to Carol Ann.

  Carol Ann looked at a picture of a young bearded man. “What am I looking at?”

  “The reason Chris Johnson could land such a plum job. Does the guy look familiar?”

  “A little…” Carol Ann narrowed her eyes and stared at the man’s face.

  “It’s him, Chris Johnson. Take off the beard, and I bet you a new pair of cowboy boots it’s the same man. There is no mistaking those eyes.”

  Carol Ann handed the phone back to Beverly. “I still don’t understand.”

  “The man in the picture—the man with the beard—his name is Chris Glandon.”

  “Chris Glandon?”

  Beverly laughed again. “I remember reading about the Glandon estate once. Worth billions. It all went to their adopted son after they died in some boating accident. He tries to stay out of the public limelight and is known for being something of a philanthropist.”

  “Are you saying Chris Johnson is really this Chris Glandon?”

  “Appears so.” Beverly dropped her phone back in her purse and picked up the red shoe. “Chris Johnson isn’t working for Chris Glandon’s foundation—he’s working for his own foundation. And he’s flying you to Texas.”

  FOURTEEN

  Walt lounged on Danielle’s bed, his stockinged feet up on the mattress while he leaned back against the headboard. At the foot of the bed was an open suitcase. Danielle filled the suitcase—carefully folding each item of clothing as Walt watched.

  Glancing up from her packing, Danielle looked into Walt’s blue eyes. “Are you going to miss me?”

  He shrugged. “You won’t even be gone a week.”

  “I suppose that means you won’t,” Danielle teased. She turned from the bed and went to her dresser, opening a drawer.

  “Do you want me to miss you?” he asked, his expression unreadable.

  “I’ll probably miss you.” She removed several pair of flannel pajama bottoms from the drawer.

  Walt eyed the pajama bottoms. “Are you taking those?”

  Danielle tossed them in the suitcase. “Yeah, why?”

  Walt shrugged. “You and Chris are going away together, so I just assumed…”

  Danielle frowned. “Just assumed what?”

  “I’m learning to get used to your generation’s loose morals—so I naturally assume when a woman goes away with a man, she takes more…attractive sleepwear.”

  Danielle rolled her eyes and slammed her suitcase shut. She zipped it up. “Walt, I’m not going away on some clandestine rendezvous.”

  “You’re going away with a man, Danielle,” Walt reminded her.

  “And six other people.”

  “Where will you be sleeping?” Walt asked.

  Danielle snatched the suitcase off the bed and tossed it on the floor. “I suppose in a bed.”

  “I’m sorry,” Walt said with a sigh. “It’s none of my business. You are an adult, and you live in a different time than I did.”

  “Oh please,” Danielle said with a snort. “You lived during the Roaring Twenties. Remember? Lord, you used to run moonshine!”

  “I don’t see what that has to do with anything. But like I said, it’s none of my business.” Walt looked to the window, his hand slightly twitching. He so wanted to conjure a cigar, yet he had promised Danielle he would not smoke in her room.

  With a sigh, Danielle walked to the empty side of the bed and sat down. Pulling her feet up on the mattress, she leaned back on the pillows in front of the headboard and lay next to Walt.

  “You don’t have a problem with this trip, do you?” Danielle asked in a soft voice.

  “Does it really matter what I think?”

  Danielle shrugged. “I guess I care what you think.”

  “I told you, you should go,” Walt said in an even softer voice. “And it really doesn’t matter what I think. This is your life, Danielle. I understand that.” My life was over long ago.

  They both sat there a moment, each lost in his or her own private thoughts.

  “Walt, is something bothering you? You’ve been out of sorts for days.”

  He considered her question a moment and then let out a heavy sigh. “I suppose I’m wondering how this trip will change everything.”

  Danielle frowned at Walt. “Change everything, how?”

  “When you go away with someone—when you spend intimate time with them—the dynamics of that relationship, along with the relationships you have with anyone else, changes.”

  Pulling her knees up to her chest, Danielle wrapped her arms around her bent legs and looked into blank space. “I don’t know if this trip is going to change the dynamics of Chris and my relationship. But I know it’s not going to change how I feel about you. You’re important to me, Walt. I feel that I can talk to you about absolutely anything.” She turned to him and smiled. “And I don’t think I could give up our dream hops.”

  Walt, whose expression had been blank, broke into a smile as his eyes met Danielle’s. “I’d miss them too. But I will refrain from any dream hops while you’re gone.”

  Danielle grinned. “I guess that would be a good idea.”

  THEY FIRST STARTED CALLING him Sky when he was just a kid because that was where he longed to be—flying high above the rooftops with the birds. As an adult, they continued to call him Sky, now a man who could fly just about any type of aircraft.

  Sitting on one of the two chairs in the motel room, he watched as Clay stood by the door, preparing to leave. Sky wasn’t a small man, but next to Clay he always felt short and puny.

  “The alarm is off, right? The last thing I need is for the cops to show up.”

  “It’s off. I double-checked. He hasn’t been using it since he started the remodel. He’s lax on security. Which is good for us.”

  “Are you sure Glandon isn’t going to be at his office? If he shows when the pilot does, then this whole thing falls apart,” Clay asked.

  “I told you he’s not even in Frederickport. No one will be there. The office hasn’t officially opened; he hasn’t hired anyone. I checked ten minutes ago, and he’s in Astoria right now. By the time he gets back to town, you’ll have the pilot safely locked up in the basement, and we can move on to our next phase in the plan.” Sky ran his hand over his clean-shaven face. The next step involved a fake beard.

  Two hours later, Sky stood in the motel bathroom, looking into the mirror. Smiling, he pulled his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and fitted them onto his face. Just as he did, he heard the door to his motel open. Stepping out of the bathroom into the bedroom area of the motel room, he watched as Clay walked through th
e door, a smile on his face.

  Clay came to an abrupt stop when his eyes landed on Sky. Closing the door behind him, he let out a low whistle. “Damn, I don’t think your own mother would recognize you.”

  Sky grinned broadly and removed the glasses. “Can I assume by your smile you took care of the pilot without any problems?”

  “Piece of cake. He never heard me coming.”

  “You didn’t have a problem getting him to the basement by yourself?”

  Clay laughed. “Are you serious? That little guy?”

  Sky had seen the pilot, and he didn’t look that little to him. “Then I guess we’re set?”

  “I’M NOT GOING to be gone that long,” Edward MacDonald told his six-year-old son, Evan, as he tucked him into bed that night.

  “But what about the birthday party?”

  Edward sat on the side of the mattress and gently tugged the covers upwards, tucking them below Evan’s chin. The boy quickly moved his arms out from under the covers and placed them on top of the blanket. He looked up at his father.

  “I told you I’ll be back before the party. You’ll have fun at Aunt Sissy’s house.”

  “I wish I could go with you. I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

  Brushing one hand gently over his son’s forehead, Edward smiled. “Maybe we can fix that after I get back. Don’t forget, we’re going to Disneyland this summer.”

  “Is Carol Ann going with us?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  Evan shrugged. “Whenever you take a trip, she goes with you.”

  Edward smiled. “Not really. This is only our second trip together. Do you want Carol Ann to go to Disneyland with us?”

  Evan wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “When you said we couldn’t go with you on this trip, you said we’d be taking a family trip to Disneyland.”

  “Why would that mean you don’t want Carol Ann to come with us?”