The Ghost and the Mystery Writer (14 page)

I
t was
a few minutes after 9 a.m. when Danielle returned from the police station. Lily greeted her at the front door, informing her a new guest would be arriving that morning.

“She called right after you left. Said she understood we might have some vacancies and wanted to make a reservation.”

“And she's coming the same day she made the reservation?”

“Yep. She said a friend recommended Marlow House,” Lily explained as she walked with Danielle to the parlor. “Joanne's upstairs now, getting the room ready.”

Danielle tossed her purse on the parlor desk. “How many people?”

“Just one. Her.”

“Really?”

“This place is starting to feel like a sorority,” Lily said with a laugh. “Except for Walt, of course.”

“Where's she from?”

“I didn't get all the details. She mentioned something about flying into Portland last night and staying at a motel by the airport. Our conversation got cut short when her ride showed up. I figured she could give me her credit card information when she gets here.”

“Obviously not someone who likes to plan out her travel itinerary in advance,” Danielle said as she sat down.

“Maybe someone with an adventurous spirit—or it's just a last minute trip, and she decided to make reservations when she got here.” Lily sat on the sofa with Danielle and drew her bare feet up on the cushion, tucking them under her.

“You said her ride showed up? You sure it's just her, and she's not coming with someone?”

“She said a reservation for one. I figured the ride was probably a shuttle to the car rental place. She told me she wanted to stay for a week, so I imagine she rented a car.”

“Did she say who her friend was? The one who recommended us?”

“No, I didn't get a chance to ask her.”

“Did you get her name at least?” Danielle asked with a laugh.

“Melony Jacobs.”

“Melony?” Furrowing her brow, Danielle considered the name a minute. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“You think you know a Melony Jacobs?”

Danielle shook her head. “No…oh, wait…I remember now. Melony is the name of Jolene's daughter. I remember Marie and the chief mentioning it.”

“You think Jolene's daughter is our new guest?”

Danielle shook her head. “I seriously doubt it. Why would she? I imagine Jolene's daughter will stay at her house when she comes to town.”

Lily stood up from the sofa and walked to the doorway. She looked out into the hall and then closed the door. Returning to Danielle, she asked, “So what did the chief say?”

“He's going to talk to Hillary.”

“When? I figured he might come back with you.”

“He has someone else to interview first.”

“Who? I can't imagine it's more important than talking to Hillary.” Lily sat back down on the sofa.

“I did what I had to do. I passed the information on to the chief, and now he has to handle it.”

“I suppose.” Lily let out a sigh.

Danielle glanced up at the ceiling. “Is Hillary in her room?”

“Typing away. Never did come down for breakfast.”

“When I left, Joanne mentioned something about taking her up a tray if she didn't come down.”

Lily glanced up to the ceiling. “She took her up one. Should we start advertising Marlow House has room service?”

“Perhaps.” Danielle smiled. “I imagine after the chief talks to Hillary, she's going to be pretty annoyed with us for giving him her notes. I wonder if we'll have another vacancy before the weekend.”

Lily shrugged. “If we do, we do.”

“That's pretty much what I figure too.”

“By the way, have you heard from Chris yet?”

“No. I decided not to call him again.” Danielle leaned back in the sofa and propped her feet on the coffee table.

“Maybe something's wrong. Aren't you worried?”

Danielle shrugged. “Not really. It hasn't been that long, and I know he's busy. It's not like he's my boyfriend or anything.”

“But he—” Before Lily could finish her sentence, Danielle reached over and grabbed Lily's wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze. She nodded up to the ceiling. Danielle knew what Lily was about to say:
he kissed you
. But it had only been a spontaneous parting kiss at the airport. Since his absence, their almost daily phone conversations remained on the level of good friends—pals—not would-be lovers. Like her brief kiss with Walt, it hovered in her subconscious, yet remained virtually a taboo topic for discussion.

D
anielle had been back
from the police station for about an hour when the doorbell rang. She and Lily were in the kitchen with Joanne, discussing the feasibility of installing an outdoor kitchen in the side yard before summer. Lily loved the idea, but Joanne warned that Frederickport's weather was not what they were used to in Sacramento, and the northwest coastal climate might not be conducive to what they had in mind. Lily disagreed, citing several outdoor kitchens she had seen in Astoria when she and Ian had gone there to interview Emma Jackson.

“I bet that's our new guest.” Danielle stood up from the kitchen table.

“Her room's all ready,” Joanne told her.

When Danielle opened the front door a few minutes later, she was shocked to find herself looking into the smiling face of Chris Johnson, aka Chris Glandon.

“Surprise!” he cheerfully greeted her.

Danielle broke into a broad smile and then realized Chris wasn't alone. Standing to his right was a tall, blond, stunning-looking woman. Noting Danielle's look of confusion, Chris quickly put his arm around the woman's waist and nudged her closer to the doorway, in clearer view of Danielle.

“Danielle, I want you to meet my friend Melony. Melony, this is Danielle Boatman. She owns Marlow House.”

“Hello, nice to meet you,” the beautiful blond woman said, extending her hand in greeting.

Momentarily speechless, Danielle accepted the greeting and forced a smile. Melony—her new guest—was the epitome of what Danielle—in her insecure youth—had longed to be. Tall, slender, obvious natural blonde, with vivid blue eyes and curly dark lashes. That insecure girl of Danielle's youth had returned.

“You're our new guest?” Danielle said with a smile, silently telling her former insecure self to go back into the shadows.

“Chris said I'd love it here. I'm just grateful you had a vacancy.”

With one arm still around Melony, Chris used his free hand to pick up the suitcase sitting by his side. Danielle glanced down at it. She remembered Chris's luggage—she had been with him when he had purchased it. When initially coming to Marlow House, Chris's luggage had been a duffle bag. Danielle assumed the suitcase belonged to Melony, or else Chris had decided to purchase new luggage while in Chicago or New York.

Danielle opened the door wider and stepped aside, making room for Melony and Chris to enter. “This is a surprise, Chris. I thought you were going to be in New York for a few more days.”

Together, Chris and Melony walked into Marlow House. Danielle couldn't help but notice the pair looked like models—
a matching set.
She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so inadequate with her appearance. She remembered that insecure teenager she had been—the one who brought boyfriends home only to have her cousin, Cheryl, snatch them away and later cast them off when she grew bored.

Setting the suitcase on the floor and dropping his arm from Melony's waist, Chris stepped toward Danielle, preparing to give her a hello hug, when Walt appeared in the room, standing next to Danielle.

“So you've returned?” Walt asked, his tone reserved. He looked Melony up and down. “And you've returned with a friend?”

“I met Melony on the airplane,” Chris explained, his eyes shifting from Danielle to Walt and then back to Danielle. “When I heard she was coming to Frederickport and would need a place to stay, I thought this would be perfect for her.”

“Why not have her stay with you at your place?” Walt snickered.

Flashing a smile at Melony, Danielle said, “Your room's all ready. I hope you like it here.”

“How about a welcome home hug?” Chris asked, ignoring Walt.

Without waiting for a response, Chris stepped to Danielle and wrapped her in a hug. Feeling a little less insecure, Danielle leaned into the embrace and closed her eyes for a moment.

“I missed you,” Chris whispered in her ear right before releasing her.

“Now I know why I couldn't get you on the phone yesterday,” Danielle said, regaining her emotional footing.

“Yeah, I spent most of the day on the airplane.” Chris turned to Melony and smiled. “Fortunately I had good company.”

“Is this your first time in Frederickport?” Danielle asked her new guest.

Melony shook her head. “No. I grew up here.”

Danielle froze a moment and stared at Melony. She looked nothing like Jolene Carmichael, and yet…“Your mother wasn't Jolene Carmichael, was she?”

Melony nodded. “I guess you knew my mother?”

Danielle let out a deep breath and looked from Melony to Chris. “Yes, I did. A little. I'm so sorry for your loss.”

“You knew her mother?” Chris asked with a frown. “Did I know her?”

Danielle shook her head. “I don't think so. I only met her recently—when you were in Chicago.”

Walt noted the questioning looks exchanged between Danielle and Chris. He decided to fill in the blanks. “What Danielle isn't saying, your friend's mother is the woman who found the gold coins over at Ian's. I'm sure Danielle told you all about it when you two spoke on the phone.”

Unaware of Walt's presence or the fact he was explaining the identity of her mother to Chris, Melony picked up the suitcase Chris had brought into the house and said something about how her mother had only recently returned to Frederickport. Chris wasn't listening to what Melony was saying, but was instead listening to Walt explain how Jolene Carmichael was the woman whose husband was the business partner of Clarence Renton—the attorney who had embezzled from Danielle's inheritance and had murdered Danielle's cousin, Cheryl.

“Chris, you're back!” Lily shouted from the hallway as she made her way from the kitchen to the foyer. Walt and Melony stopped talking, and they, along with Danielle and Chris, turned to face Lily.

“It's good to be home!” Chris greeted her. “How's Ian doing?”

When Lily reached the group, she gave Chris a brief hug. “You can ask him yourself. He's supposed to be on his way over here.” She glanced at the blonde. “Hi, are you Melony?”

Before Melony could respond, another voice called out, “Melony Jacobs, is that you?” The group looked down the hallway and watched as Hillary Hemmingway approached.

“Hillary? What are you doing in Oregon?” Melony asked.

In reply, Hillary gave Melony a brief, perfunctory hug and said, “My muse told me to come.” Danielle and Lily exchanged glances.

Taking a step back from Hillary, Melony arched her brows and asked, “You think that was wise?”

“You two know each other?” Lily asked.

“Yes, we do. You know what they say about it being a small world.” Hillary smiled. “So what brings you to Oregon?”

Without thought, Danielle blurted out, “Melony is Jolene's daughter. The woman who was murdered.”

S
teve Klein did not expect
to spend his lunch hour in the Frederickport Police Department's interrogation room. When Chief MacDonald had called and insisted he come down to the station, Steve assumed their conversation would take place in Edward MacDonald's office.

Glancing around the small windowless room, he noticed the mirror on the far wall. He knew what it was: a two-way mirror. Steve remembered when it had been installed back when they had remodeled the police station.

In the early days, there was no security wall segregating the front lobby from the inner offices—no bulletproof glass separating the outside world from the office space of local law enforcement officers. Back then, the installation of the two-way mirror had caused a bit of a stir in town, as many locals disliked the idea of their community emulating the ways of a larger city.

He wondered if there was anyone watching him from the other side of the mirror. Sitting at the table in the center of the room, he glanced up at the wall clock adjacent to the mirror. He had been in the room—waiting—for five minutes.

Restless, he pulled his cellphone from his pocket, looked at it, and then set it on the tabletop and glanced around, shifting in the chair, trying to get more comfortable. Just as he was about to pick his phone up again, the door opened, and Chief MacDonald walked in, carrying a manila folder.

“What is this about, MacDonald?” Klein snapped. “You demand I come down here and keep me waiting forever. I'm sure whatever you needed to ask me could have been asked on the phone.”

MacDonald closed the door behind him and briefly glanced to the wall clock. “Sorry about the wait, but it was my understanding you got here just a few minutes ago. I was on the phone when you arrived, and came here as soon as the call ended.”

“It doesn't matter if you kept me waiting five minutes or fifty. There's no reason I had to come down in the first place. Like I said, you could have easily asked me what you needed to know over the phone and saved us both some time. I have a busy schedule today.”

MacDonald walked to the table and sat down across from Steve. “I really didn't want to ask you this on the phone.”

“Ask me what?”

“If you killed Jolene Carmichael.”

Steve stood abruptly. “What in the hell kind of question is that?”

MacDonald motioned for Steve to sit back down. “Before you answer that question, you might want to have your attorney present.” He went on to recite the Miranda rights to the stunned bank manager.

Steve sat back on the chair. “Am I under arrest?”

“No.” MacDonald studied Steve.

“Then what the hell was that all about?” he snapped.

“I just wanted to make sure you completely understand your rights before we continue. Do you want to call your attorney?”

“This is ridiculous. I didn't kill Jolene.”

“Then you're waiving your right to have an attorney present?”

“Sure—fine—whatever—why am I really down here? You know I didn't kill Jolene.”

“Is it true you were having an affair with Carla?”

Steve stared at MacDonald. Finally, he asked, “What does my personal life have to do with Jolene?”

“A great deal if Jolene was blackmailing you over your personal life. Threatening to go to your wife if you refused to give her that loan she so desperately needed.”

Absently combing his fingers through his hair, Steve shook his head. “I don't know where you get the idea she was blackmailing me.”

Opening the folder he had carried into the room, MacDonald removed a piece of paper from it and slid it across the table to Steve.

“What's this?”

“Looks a little like Jolene blackmailing you.” MacDonald leaned back in the chair and watched. “Of course, one does need to read between the lines.”

With a frown, Steve started to read what appeared to be a computer printout from an email account. The moment he realized what he was looking at, he snatched the paper from the table and waved it in the air. “Where did you get this?”

“Jolene sent that the same day she was murdered.”

“You have no right to go looking through my email. Did you have a search warrant? If you didn't, you have no right to this!”

“I didn't go through your email, Steve. I had no reason to—at least, none that I knew of until I saw that.” MacDonald nodded to the paper in Steve's hand.

“Where did you get this?”

“Carla was afraid. She brought it to me.”

Dropping the paper to the table, Steve slumped back in his chair. “Carla? Carla thinks I killed Jolene?”

“She didn't until she read that.”

Staring down at the paper on the table, Steve shook his head. “I didn't have anything to do with Jolene's death.” He looked up at MacDonald. “I don't want my wife to know.”

“That will be a little hard to keep from her if I have to charge you with murder.”

“I didn't kill anyone! What do you need to know? I'll cooperate with you, but please don't say anything to my wife. Keep her out of this.”

“You can start by telling me what you didn't the first two times I talked to you about Jolene's murder. Start with Carla and you, and how Jolene knew.”

Closing his eyes briefly, Steve took a deep breath and then exhaled. He stared across the table at MacDonald. “About a month ago, Carla and I sort of hooked up. It started as harmless flirting, and then…well, one night when I was alone, I stopped at Pier Café and had something to eat. My wife was out of town, so I wasn't in any big hurry to get home. After I left the restaurant, I decided to walk down the pier. See if anyone was catching anything. By the time I went back to the parking lot to get my car and go home, the restaurant had closed down. Carla had locked up that night and was the last one to leave. I ran into her in the parking lot.”

“So you started talking, one thing led to another, and you went home with her? And then sometime during your affair Jolene saw you?”

“Actually, I didn't go home with her that night.” Steve blushed. “She was upset about something, so I sat in her car with her for a while and listened to her. And well…one thing led to another…”

“Are you saying you and Carla hooked up the first time—in her car—in the parking lot of Pier Café?”

Steve shrugged. “It seemed pretty exciting at the time.”

“And cramped,” McDonald mumbled under his breath. He then remembered another time—back in February—when Carla had admitted to him about hooking up with a customer in the back of her car after work.
I really need to have someone patrol that parking lot more frequently.

“I can't believe Carla thinks I murdered Jolene.” Steve picked the paper back up off the table and looked at it a moment. Glancing up to MacDonald, he asked, “If Carla brought you this, she obviously got into my email account someway. I never gave her my password.”

“I can't see Carla as a skilled hacker. My guess, if you didn't give her your password, she figured it out. Do you use something obvious like your pet's name?”

Steve didn't respond.

“Tell me about you and Jolene.”

“She came to the bank for a loan. When she was turned down, she came to me. Thought I could pull some strings. I told her I couldn't help her. She had no collateral. What she brought in each month barely covered her living expenses.”

“So she discovers your little secret, she sends you that email in the morning, and that night, she's dead.”

Steve shook his head. “No. Ask Carla. Before Jolene ever came into the restaurant that night, I told her we had to cool it. I got that email and figured Jolene must have seen me and Carla together around town, maybe noticed something in our body language and imagined we were fooling around. She always had a dirty mind.”

“Umm…well…you were fooling around.”

“True. But I don't believe Jolene knew that for sure. I certainly never intended to confirm it. I figured, when Jolene came to me, expecting to get the loan, I'd just play dumb, deny it, tell her she was crazy. Figured if she intended to make good on her threat, she'd give me some final ultimatum. Then I'd go to my wife and tell her how bat-shit crazy Jolene Carmichael was and how she was trying to blackmail me over an affair I wasn't having.”

“What did Jolene say to you that night when she came into the restaurant?”

“Pretty much what I told you before. Although, she asked me if I got her email.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I played dumb, told her I hadn't gotten anything—pretended I thought she was talking about my work email. She said no, she meant my private email. I lied and told her I hadn't had time to check it yet.”

“What did she say?”

“Told me I needed to go home and read it and to expect her in the morning so she could finalize the loan.”

“What did you say?”

“She just got up and walked away. I didn't have a chance to say anything. I just figured when she came in the next morning, I'd keep playing dumb.”

“Sounds like you had this all figured out.”

“I just had no reason to kill Jolene. All I needed to do was end it with Carla. It's not like it was some love affair. We were just having a little fun.”

“But you didn't end it with Carla, did you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were with her again after Jolene was killed.”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah. With Jolene dead, I didn't see the harm. But afterwards, I realized it had gotten too complicated and figured it would be best to end it.” Steve tossed the paper back onto the table. It slipped across the tabletop and floated off and down to the floor. “I just never imagined Carla would turn on me like this. She got into my email. Came to you.” He shook his head.

“She was afraid.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Right. I'm so terrifying. More like she's playing the vindictive card because I ended our relationship.”

“Jolene is dead. I'd say Carla has a right to feel vulnerable, especially if she believes you might have killed Jolene. You did have a motive.”

“I didn't kill anyone. Anyway, Carla had as much of a motive as I did to kill her. More.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because when I went to the restaurant that night after getting Jolene's email, I told Carla we had to cool it. I told her Jolene knew about our affair, and I didn't want her going to my wife. I said if we stopped seeing each other, she wouldn't be able to prove anything, because I didn't believe she had any tangible proof.”

“So why does that give Carla a motive?”

“Because she wanted me to leave my wife.”

“I thought you said you and Carla were just…having fun?”

“We were, and I was always up front with her. But I'm not stupid. I know she hoped I'd someday leave my wife and marry her. She figured if she stuck around long enough—did whatever I wanted—I'd eventually leave my wife for her.” Steve smiled. “That was never going to happen—but—well, when a young woman is desperate to get in a man's wallet and is looking to board the gravy train—she can be mighty accommodating, if you know what I mean.”

Steve started to say something else when he glanced over to the mirror and froze. Standing up abruptly, he pointed to the mirror. “Who's listening?”

“Don't worry, Steve, your wife doesn't have to know…for now. Although, you better pray Carla has a long healthy life.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If she's involved in any unfortunate accident, I'll be bringing you in again for questioning. I'll make sure your wife is in the next room, listening.”

“
Y
ou really don't think
Steve has anything to do with Jolene's murder?” Brian asked MacDonald after Steve left the station. He and Joe sat with the chief in the break room.

“Is he a killer? It's possible. I'm not ruling it out. But there is one thing I learned about Steve Klein today.”

“What's that?” Joe asked.

MacDonald downed his soda and then said, “That guy is a major jerk.”