The Ghost from the Sea (15 page)

D
anielle pulled
up in front of Marie's house and parked her car. After the chief had left that morning, Danielle had asked herself how she could prove to the chief that he was wrong about last night's dream hop—that Walt hadn't written Thelma's script. Unfortunately, the chief was right. The dream hop could have been entirely of Walt's making. It was impossible to prove otherwise.

The only thing she might be able to prove was the possibility of that type of dream hop—one where a spirit replays an unedited version of the past. There was only one way Danielle could prove the possibility; Marie needed to confirm Walt's claim that he had visited her in a dream to test his theory. If Marie recalled the dream he had described, Danielle would use that information to try to convince the chief to see it her way.

Danielle knew Walt was telling the truth. Never for a moment did she ever consider the possibility Walt was involved with those people's deaths. As for having an affair with Thelma—she understood that was possible. When married to Lucas, Danielle never imagined for a moment he would have an affair. She had been wrong.

However, the visit to the speakeasy convinced her Walt was telling the truth. Perhaps the chief didn't trust Walt; she did.

“I'm glad you stopped by,” Marie told Danielle when she led her into the living room a few minutes later. Danielle had called Marie before coming over, which explained the hot pot of tea sitting on the coffee table along with two empty teacups, and a platter of cookies.

Danielle took a seat on the sofa. “I wanted to tell you about Emma Jackson.”

“I already heard.” Marie picked up the teapot.

“You did?”

Marie filled the two cups with tea. She then picked up one with its saucer, and handed it to Danielle. “Yes. Mathew called me this morning, right after you called.”

“I guess there won't be a funeral.” Danielle sipped her tea.

Marie sat on a chair facing the sofa, holding her cup of tea, its saucer sitting on her lap. “You know, after your open house, Emma and I became rather good friends. We would talk on the phone every day.”

“I guess she went peacefully.”

“Yes. That's how I want to go. Of course, after Adam gets married.”

Danielle laughed. “Then you're going to live forever!”

“You may be right.” Marie picked up the platter of cookies and offered one to Danielle.

“By the way, I met Jolene Carmichael yesterday at the museum.”

“Really? I knew she was back in town. Millie mentioned they were going to try and get her to fill a board vacancy.”

“Well, we didn't exactly hit it off.” Danielle nibbled on the cookie.

“Jolene could be a little opinionated, from what I recall.”

Danielle went on to tell Marie about yesterday's visit to the museum. When she was finished, Marie set her teacup and saucer on the coffee table while spouting a few tsk tsk tsks. “I don't blame you for not donating the emerald right now. Ungrateful bunch, if you ask me.”

“To be honest, the rest of them were pretty nice, and I did feel bad about it. But I'm just not sure how I feel about them selling the emerald. Maybe they could have made their case, but I'm not really sure they intended to be upfront with me. If Jolene hadn't said something, would they have?”

“I thought you just said they were nice?”

“Well, they were. Just not sure how forthright they were.”

Marie leaned forward and patted Danielle's hand. “Now perhaps you understand why I avoid getting too involved with that group.”

“You know, they talked with Lily about having her do some educational programs for the museum with the area schools. But when Lily went down there to talk to them about it, nothing really came of it aside from the fact they hit her up for a donation.”

Marie gave Danielle a knowing nod. “It's that settlement Lily got, from Stoddard's estate. Impossible to keep things like that secret in this little town.”

“Then I suppose I did the right thing. I'll loan the emerald to the museum for the exhibit. At least for the time being.”

“That's probably for the best, dear.”

Danielle shifted in her seat, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs. Licking her lips, she looked over at Marie. “After yesterday's visit to the museum, and the way they're so caviler with the truth regarding Walt Marlow's death—well—I dreamt about him last night.”

“You dreamt about Walt Marlow?” Marie's face broke out into a grin. “What was the dream about?”

“Oh, I don't know. We were sitting in the library together—reading. Yes, we were reading,” she lied.

“Now that you mention it, I dreamt about Walt Marlow, not that long ago.”

“You did?”

Marie nodded. “Not sure why I dreamt about him. He looked just like he did in his portrait, yet perhaps better looking. I remember mother telling me he was a handsome man. Such a shame he died at such a young age. It was really an odd dream.”

“Odd how?”

“We were in my parent's house—the one Ian lives in, across from you. I was just a baby.”

“You were a baby in the dream?” Danielle asked.

Marie smiled. “Yes and no. I was as I am now. But there was also a baby in the dream, and the baby was me. Walt was there. Actually, two Walt Marlows.”

“Two?”

Marie laughed. “Are you sure you want to hear about an old woman's dream?”

Danielle leaned forward and set her teacup and saucer on the coffee table. “Oh yes! I really do.”

Marie laughed again and then continued. “It reminded me a little of Dickens' Christmas Carol, where the ghost takes Scrooge back to see his past. In this case, I was Scrooge and Walt was the ghost. My father was there, sitting on the sofa, holding a baby—me—in his arms. I knew it was me. The way they were talking, I could tell it was the first time Walt had seen me. My mother walked into the room and asked Father if he was going to let Walt hold me. Walt's expression was priceless. For a moment, I imagined he was going to leap from the sofa. He told Father, ‘Babies scare me,'” Marie laughed.

“Then what happened?”

“I wanted to know why I was there, watching this, I started asking Walt, the Walt by my side not the Walt sitting on the sofa with my father, why we were there. And then, well, then I woke up.”

“Interesting,” Danielle murmured.

“I suppose I understand the dream; I'd heard that story from both of my parents a dozen times.”

“What story?”

“After I was born and Walt Marlow saw me for the first time, my mother asked him if he wanted to hold me, and he looked appalled at the idea.” Marie laughed again. “He told my parents babies scared him. My mother often wondered how he would have been as a father, had he ever had children of his own.”

“I think he would have been a good father,” Danielle murmured.

“You know what's peculiar?” Marie asked.

“What?”

“I normally forget my dreams right after I wake up. But I can still remember this one clearly, every detail.”

“Some dreams are like that.”

“Perhaps. Silly dream, though. Not sure what it meant, if anything. Was there some significance to Walt and me making a Dickens-like appearance, showing up in an old story my parents used to tell me? Or had I simply eaten ice cream too late that night?”

I
t was
lunchtime when Danielle returned to Marlow House. She found Joanne vacuuming in the parlor. The moment Danielle walked in the room, Joanne turned off the vacuum.

“I thought I'd clean up in here while everyone is out,” Joanne explained.

“So you're alone?”
Except of course for Walt—and Max.

“Yes, and enjoying the solitude. That Mrs. Sterling certainly has a lot to say.”

Danielle chuckled. “She does. I'll leave you to your solitude; I need to look for something in the attic.”

“I imagine you'll find Max up there,” Joanne said right before she turned the vacuum back on and returned to her work.

“
I
've been wondering
why the chief was here, and where you took off to,” Walt said when Danielle entered the attic a few minutes later.

“Stella mentioned that when she and her husband were down at the beach looking at the Eva Aphrodite, the police pulled a trunk from the ship, and for some reason she thought there was a body inside. Or at least the remains of one.”

“Yes. So?”

“She was right. And I think I know who it was.” Danielle took a seat on the sofa and looked at Walt who remained standing by the spotting scope at the window.

“Who?”

“Jack.”

“Jack? How would his body get onboard?”

“Apparently you were wrong. Jack didn't run off, he was on that boat when all those people were killed. And he was killed too.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Walt walked from the window and took a seat next to Danielle on the sofa.

“From what Jack said, he wasn't on the boat when he died. For some reason his spirit went there. Maybe he can't remember how he died, but wouldn't he remember getting on the boat before he was murdered?” Walt asked.

“Perhaps he was killed somewhere else. Brought to the boat in the trunk. The chief speculates he was shot in the chest, since they found a bullet on the bottom of the trunk, right below his rib cage.”

“Why are you so sure it's Jack? I'd have to assume that after all this time, all that's left of him are his skeletal remains.”

“There was fabric left from his clothes—blue pinstripe.”

“Not so uncommon,” Walt noted.

“True. But he was also wearing a ring. A Masonic ring, with the initials J.W.”

Walt let out a low whistle and sat back in the sofa, absorbing all that Danielle was telling him. “He was killed on the boat.”

“Why do you say that?” Danielle asked.

“I just don't see how someone could get a trunk onboard—or why they would. It doesn't make sense. We're talking about a cruise where our passengers return within 24 hours.”

“Was there a trunk onboard?”

Walt considered the question a moment. “Yes.”

“Which probably means Jack was killed onboard, like the rest of them. But why was he there?” Danielle asked.

Walt stood up and waved his hand, summonsing a lit cigar. “Perhaps he was meeting Thelma there, which would explain why he didn't tell me he was going out on the boat.”

“Why would he meet Thelma there? Her husband was on the boat.”

Walt turned to Danielle and arched his brow. “If you'll recall, Thelma made it perfectly clear what her intentions were should I join them on the Eva Aphrodite.”

“But she asked you about going on a private cruise at a later date.”

Walt shook his head. “That was after she asked—in her coy way—if I would be on the Eva Aphrodite when they were. It was pretty clear to me; she was more than willing for us to slip away for an illicit rendezvous while her husband was onboard. The yacht had plenty of rooms for someone to find a quiet place, away from the rest of the crew and passengers for an illicit meeting. And when I turned her down, she focused her attention on Jack.”

“Why wouldn't he have told you about going out on the boat that day? Why keep it a secret? After all, you were with him when they took off together.”

“True. But Jack also knew I didn't approve of mixing that type of pleasure with business. We didn't need that kind of grief should Howard happen upon Jack and his wife, especially onboard my boat where Jack's a partner in the business venture. No. If Jack did something that reckless, he wouldn't have told me.”

“I suppose I should go down and talk to him.”

With a wave of his hand, the cigar vanished. Walt looked at Danielle with a solemn expression. “Please tell Jack to come see me. This changes everything. Tell him I want to apologize.”