The Ghost and the Mystery Writer (6 page)

“She wasn't killed because of the rings,” Danielle whispered.

Adam looked out the window at Danielle. “How do you know?”

“I just do. The cops are looking for someone who had a grudge against Jolene.”

“Well, I didn't kill her. And if I did, I certainly wouldn't use a wine bottle that could be traced to me—and leave my fingerprints behind!”

“What's this about you and Jolene's daughter?”

“What are you talking about?”

“After your grandma heard—or thought—you were arrested, she said they might pin it on you because of what went on between you and Jolene's daughter.”

“That's old news. Has nothing to do with Jolene's death. I can't even imagine why Grandma would bring it up.” He sounded annoyed.

“Your grandma loves you. She just worries about you.”

With his hands firmly on the steering wheel, Adam revved his engine. He glanced up into the rearview mirror. “I have to go now.”

“So you aren't going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?” He revved his engine again.

“About you and Melony? That's her name, isn't it?”

“None of your business, Danielle,” he said impatiently, glancing back up into the mirror.

“Okay.” Danielle stepped back from the car. “But you know, she's probably going to be coming to Frederickport this week. Melony, that is.”

Adam briefly glanced to Danielle and then gunned his engine. In the next moment, he backed out of the parking space and raced from the police department parking lot, without stopping for the stop sign on the corner.

Somewhat startled, Danielle watched as Adam's car disappeared down the street. “I really shouldn't have gone all Lily on him. But there's a story here.”

W
hen Danielle
finally returned home that afternoon, she noticed Joanne's car wasn't parked in front of Marlow House, but Hillary's was. She glanced over to Ian's house before turning into her drive and noticed Ian's vacant driveway.
Lily and Ian aren't back from Portland.

It suddenly dawned on Danielle that she had been so busy all day, she hadn't called or texted Lily. Since she hadn't heard from Lily, she had to assume her roommate didn't know about the murder, which she found peculiar considering Ian's sister, Kelly, was dating Sergeant Morelli. She would have assumed Joe had already filled Kelly in on all the details, which Kelly would then relay to her brother.

Sadie greeted Danielle the moment she entered the kitchen, with a wet nose eagerly sniffing and a wagging tail. Hillary Hemmingway sat at the kitchen table, eating a sandwich, while Walt lounged against the kitchen counter, his arms folded across his chest.

“Where have you been all day?” Walt asked the question in spite of the fact Danielle couldn't directly answer it—not with her guest sitting in the kitchen.

Hillary set her sandwich on her plate and smiled up at Danielle. “You just missed Joanne. She left about ten minutes ago.”

“It's been a crazy day.” Danielle tossed her purse on the kitchen counter and grabbed a glass from the overhead cabinet. “Did you hear about the murder?” She filled her glass with water and then turned to face the older woman.

“Oh yes. One of Joanne's friends called her, told her someone was mugged on the beach last night. Have you heard if they've caught him yet?”

Danielle took a seat at the table. “Unfortunately, no.”

“I hope you have more information. Joanne didn't tell us anything. Or should I say, she didn't tell Hillary much,” Walt said.

“I must say, it was comforting having Sadie here. What with a killer on the loose. I kept all the doors locked while you were gone,” Hillary explained.

“Who was murdered?” Walt asked. “Were you off helping the chief? Is that where you've been all day?”

“I don't think we're in any danger, but it's always good to keep the doors locked,” Danielle said. “I knew the woman who was killed—Jolene Carmichael.” Danielle glanced up to Walt; their eyes met.

“I'm sorry, was she a good friend of yours?” Hillary asked.

Danielle sipped her water and then said, “No. She was more an acquaintance than a friend. In fact, I only just met her a short while ago.”

“You loathed the woman,” Walt smirked.

Ignoring Walt's comment, Danielle said, “I met her through the historical society. She was a board member. I think I've mentioned her before. She was the one who found the gold coins at Ian's house.”

Abandoning the partially eaten sandwich on her plate, Hillary looked over at Danielle with keen interest. “She was the one who thought she should be able to keep them, right?”

“Yeah, that's what she thought. But now the poor woman is dead.”

“Do you know the details?” Hillary asked.

Danielle shrugged. “Not really. Probably no more than what Joanne told you.”

“I don't believe that,” Walt scoffed.

“So what did you do today?” Danielle asked.

“My muse finally spoke to me!” Hillary said brightly.

“You started your book?”

“Oh yes. I've been writing all day. It's so exhilarating. Nothing like it; when a story grabs me, I can do nothing but write.”

“She's not kidding,” Walt said. “She was still up when I went to the attic last night after midnight, and this morning, when I came back downstairs, I could hear her clicking away on a typewriter. I thought you told me people don't use typewriters anymore?”

“I've been meaning to ask you, I noticed the typewriter in your room. Don't you write on a computer?” Danielle asked.

“I don't like writing on a computer,” Hillary told her. “Stifles my creativity. Mr. Royal has been my loyal assistant for over fifty years.”

Danielle frowned. “Mr. Royal?”

“My Royal typewriter. It belonged to my father.”

“I didn't realize you could still buy typewriter ribbon,” Danielle muttered.

“Certainly.”

“I saw her typewriter,” Walt told Danielle. “It isn't even an electric one.”

“Can you tell me what your story's about?” Danielle asked.

Hillary's thin pale lips crinkled as she broke into a sly smile. “I never talk about my story during the early stage. It's bad luck. But I must say, I feel good about this one. I knew coming to Marlow House was the right thing for me.”

“How do you mean?” Danielle asked.

“I've been experiencing such a bad case of writer's block. Something told me coming here would prime my creative pump and it has! When I returned from my walk last night, I felt exhilarated! I just knew my dry spell was over!”

“I'm happy for you.” Danielle smiled.

Hillary stood up and carried her plate to the sink. “If you'll excuse me, Danielle. I need to get back to work. I'll keep my door closed, but if my typing bothers you, please let me know. I could always come downstairs and write.”

“No, your typing doesn't bother me. I've never even heard it.”

“Wonderful.” Hillary started to rinse her plate off, but Danielle told her to leave it, she would take care of it. Grateful, Hillary flashed Danielle a smile, set the plate in the sink, and hurried from the kitchen.

“How can you not hear the typing? I could hear it up in the attic,” Walt asked.

Danielle went to the sink and finished rinsing Hillary's plate before placing it in the dishwasher. “I don't know. Maybe I'm just a heavy sleeper.”

Walt watched Danielle for a moment as she wiped down the counter with a paper towel. Finally, he asked, “So there's a killer on the loose in Frederickport?”

“Afraid so.” Danielle tossed the paper towel into the trash can and turned to face Walt.

“Perhaps whoever killed Jolene has already left town. No reason to stick around and risk getting arrested.”

“The chief seems to feel it wasn't a mugging—that the killer targeted Jolene specifically.”

“From what I heard Joanne tell your guest, Jolene was robbed.”

“Maybe she was robbed, but that's not why she was killed. Whoever killed her wanted her dead.”

“Are you a suspect?” Walt asked.

“Me?” Danielle frowned. “Why would I be a suspect? I barely knew the woman!”

Walt laughed. “I know you didn't kill her. I just wondered if you were a suspect since it was no secret you disliked the woman. And you seem to be the favorite suspect when someone gets killed in Frederickport.”

“It was more that she didn't like me. But no, I'm not a suspect. But Adam was for a while this afternoon—which is one reason I was late getting home.”

Before Danielle could elaborate, her cellphone began to ring. She slipped it out of her back pocket. It was Lily.

“Hey, Lily, I thought you'd be home by now.” Danielle sat down at the table while Walt silently listened to her side of the conversation.

“We're getting ready to head back now. Why didn't you tell me about Jolene?” Lily asked.

“So you heard?”

“Yeah. We just got back to Kelly's, and she told us all about it.”

“Where did she get her information, the news or Joe?” Danielle asked.

“Joe. He called her about thirty minutes ago. Told her all about it.”

“I'm surprised you didn't hear something about it on the radio.”

“We've been at the tattoo parlor all afternoon so—”

“Tattoo parlor?” Danielle interrupted.

“I finally did it, Dani. I claimed the dragon,” Lily told her.

“Did you tattoo over it?”

“No. Like I told you before, I didn't want to do that. I…well, you'll see. But I have to tell you, it hurt! Damn! I should have made them knock me out like before!”

Danielle laughed. “Yeah, I'm kind of a wimp. When Lucas got his second tattoo, he tried to convince me to get one, but I hate needles.”

“Unfortunately, I have to go back for them to finish it. But I've gone this far, I can't wimp out now.”

Danielle heard Ian in the background. Lily then said, “Ian wants to talk to you for a minute.”

“Hey, Danielle, we heard about Jolene,” Ian said after he took the phone from Lily.

“Crazy, isn't it?”

“Kelly said Adam was almost arrested, but you helped him out,” Ian said.

“I suppose I did. Poor Marie was really freaked. But we straightened it out quickly. I suppose Joe told Kelly about the bottle?”

“Yes. I was wondering, what does Hillary think about all this?” Ian asked.

“Hillary? In what way?”

“I just thought she might be down at the police station, asking questions. Checking out the crime scene. Going all Jessica Fletcher.”

“Why would she do that? As far as I know, she's been holed up in her room since last night, working on her new book.”

“I just figured, with her history, she'd be in the middle of things.”

“Her history, in what way?” Danielle asked.

“You haven't read her books, have you?”

Danielle glanced up at the ceiling, imagining Hillary in her room on the second floor, busily working on her new book. “No, but please keep that to yourself. I keep sidestepping that question. I need to read one of her books in case someone comes out and asks me in front of her.”

“Every Hillary Hemingway interview I've read or watched, she's asked if her stories are based on real events—which she continually denies. I've read a couple interviewers who've come out and called her a liar. Of course, her fans don't care. They love her. She has loyal fans.”

“I would imagine most authors steal their ideas from real life. So what does this have to do with Jolene?”

“I just figured, with a murder in such close proximity, she'd be out there soaking up story fodder for future books.”

“From how she's been glued to her typewriter, I think she already has her next book worked out.”

“
W
hat's this about a tattoo
?” Walt asked when Danielle was finally off the phone.

“Lily finally did it. She's making the tattoo hers.”

Walt understood what Danielle was talking about. After kidnapping Lily, in his attempt to make the world believe the comatose young woman was his niece Isabella, Stoddard Gusarov had Lily's arm tattooed—a dragon tattoo exactly like the one his late niece had worn.

Lily had contemplated removing the tattoo, but because of the ink used, the painful process would leave her arm severely scarred. Instead of removal, Lily decided to make the tattoo hers by adding additional artwork.

“I'm curious to see it. But I still can't get used to how women of your generation mark up their bodies.”

“Times have changed.”

“So you keep reminding me,” Walt said as he followed Danielle from the kitchen to the hallway, with Sadie trailing behind them.

They made their way to the parlor, where they found Max dozing on the sofa. Danielle promptly picked up the feline and put him on her lap as she sat down. Max yawned and opened his eyes.

Spying the cat on Danielle's lap, Sadie rushed to the sofa and nosed the feline, only to be greeted by a scolding swat of a paw across her nose. Uninjured, as no claws were involved, Sadie gave another sniff, endured another swat, and then curled up on the floor by Danielle's feet.

“So tell me about today—what you know about the murder. Did you see her spirit?” Walt asked.

“Yes, I did. But she didn't talk to me. In fact, she ignored me.” Absently, Danielle scratched under Max's chin. He closed his eyes and began to purr.

“Are you saying she hasn't warmed up to you in death?” Walt chuckled.

“More like I don't even exist. But she tried awful hard to get MacDonald's attention. She showed him where her rings were.”

“Rings?” Walt frowned.

“Whoever killed Jolene hit her over the head with a wine bottle. They were under the pier. He…or she…took off Jolene's rings. She wore a diamond ring on every finger, even her thumbs. The killer dumped the rings off the end of the pier. We figure he did that because he didn't want to be caught with her jewelry, but had to take them so the police would think it was a robbery. Unbeknownst to the killer, the rings got tangled up in some fish netting that was stuck to the side of the pier. They recovered nine of her rings. The chief assumes one of the rings didn't make it into the netting and is probably at the bottom of the water under the pier. I think it's possible the killer kept one ring as a souvenir.”

Walt stared blankly at Danielle.

“What is it?” she asked.

“No…the killer didn't keep the tenth ring,” Walt said in a low voice.