The Ghost of Marlow House (Haunting Danielle Book 1)
Read The Ghost of Marlow House (Haunting Danielle Book 1) Online
Authors: Bobbi Holmes,Anna J. McIntyre
The Ghost of Marlow House
Haunting Danielle Series
Book 1
By Bobbi Holmes
Also known as Anna J. McIntyre
THE GHOST OF MARLOW HOUSE, Book 1
When Danielle Boatman inherits Marlow House, she
dreams of turning it into a seaside bed and breakfast. Since she’s never
visited the property, Danielle’s not sure what awaits her in Oregon. She
certainly doesn’t expect to find one of the house’s previous owners still in
residence. After all, the man has been dead for almost ninety years—shouldn’t
he have moved on by now?
Charming Walt Marlow convinces Danielle the only
way he can move on is if she solves the mystery of his death. Danielle soon
discovers her real problems may come from the living—those who have their
sights on Marlow House’s other secrets.
THE GHOST OF MARLOW HOUSE
HAUNTING DANIELLE SERIES
BOOK 1
By Bobbi Holmes
Also known as Anna J. McIntyre
Cover Design: Elizabeth Mackey
THE GHOST OF MARLOW HOUSE
HAUNTING DANIELLE SERIES – BOOK 1
PUBLISHED BY:
Robeth Publishing, LLC
Copyright © 2014 Bobbi Holmes
Robeth
Publishing, LLC, All Rights Reserved
For
my son-in-law, Joe,
because
when my time is up he will
be
one of the first people I haunt.
Table
of Contents
If Walt Marlow opened the window, he would
be able to hear the breakers crashing along the Pacific Northwest coast and
breathe in the damp salty air. He missed the soothing sound of the sea, but he
just couldn’t seem to get the windows open these days. Perhaps they were rusted
shut; salt air did that sometimes, he told himself.
Two women stood at his front gate. Walt
could see them from the attic window. The taller of the two, a young brunette,
seemed overly excited. She kept pointing to his house while talking to her
companion. He wondered if they intended to stand there all day, or enter the
gate and make their way up to his front door. People rarely visited these days.
He used the spotting scope to get a
closer look at the pair. A stationery fixture at the attic window, the scope
gave him a closer view of the ocean, beyond the row of houses separating his
home from the nearby beach. Had Marlow House not been two stories, plus the
attic, his neighbors’ rooftops would obscure the view.
The house directly across the street
belonged to his old friend, George Hemming. At one time it was the only house
on that side of the street. Walt couldn’t recall when the houses to the left
and right of Hemming’s had been built or who lived there. George used to come
over regularly to share a brandy with him, but it had been ages since his last
visit.
The spotting scope brought the two women
closer. The brunette’s hair stubbornly refused to stay in place, tossed
carelessly by the afternoon’s gusty breeze. She continually brushed wayward
strands from her face. Her hairstyle was not fashionable—at least not by his
day’s standards. The women he knew—those inspired by the avant-garde
flapper—cropped their curls short. However, he found her long wavy hair appealing
and feminine, reminding him of a gentler era. If he were to turn back the clock
he would assume she was unmarried. In his parent’s day, a married woman
typically wore her long hair up, not free flowing.
He guessed she was in her early
twenties. She wore a fitted pink blouse over what he assumed was a skirt.
Unable to see what she wore from the waist down, he could only make an assumption.
What he could see he found appealing and he almost wished she’d make it past
his front gate. Walt experienced a brief surge of guilt for such a thought.
After all, what would Angela think? Memories of Angela were fleeting and
sporadic. There were times he forgot her entirely, and then he would see her
portrait hanging next to his in the library and he would think,
Angela
should have returned from Portland by now
. Somehow he had lost track of the
time.
He turned his attention to the second
woman at the gate. He didn’t find her half as interesting as her companion.
She was attractive enough, but he was never partial to redheads. An abundance
of rusty curls fell to her mid-back, secured in place by what he guessed was a
ribbon.
It’s quite obvious she and her companion don’t follow the current
fashion trends
, he thought. This second girl was a few inches shorter than
her friend and wore an unflattering boyish jacket over her outfit. Again he assumed—as
he had with her friend—that she was wearing a dress or skirt.
When was the last time I had a visitor?
He asked himself. There had been the woman with the clipboard—a manly woman,
who wore men’s trousers. She wasn’t much of a conversationalist and the few
words she spoke made little sense to him. Of course, there was also Joanne. She
came once a week to clean the house.
Walt Marlow had adapted to his solitude;
though there were times he missed sharing a brandy with one of his friends or
admiring a pretty young woman. From what he could see, the brunette was attractive,
yet by the way her lips kept moving she was obviously a talker, not a trait he
admired in a woman. Bored with watching the pair, Walt turned from the window
and left the room, making his way down the stairs to the parlor. Outside, the
two women continued to stand at his gate.
• • • •
Danielle Boatman pointed to the dormer
windows protruding from the mansard roofline. “The third floor is actually the
attic.” She frowned when something in one of the attic windows caught her eye.
“It looks like there’s standing room up
there. Extra living space, perhaps?” Lily suggested as she stood on her
tiptoes, clutching the iron gate. Peering over the fence she added, “You might
be able to put a couple extra bedrooms up there. A bathroom would be nice, but
that might cost a fortune.”
Danielle pointed to one of the top
windows. “Lily, look at that attic window.”
“Yes?” Lily glanced upward.
“Do you see anything? There! There it is
again!”
Narrowing her green eyes, Lily studied
the window. “What? I don’t see anything.”
“I don’t know…like a dark shadow passed
by it.”
“It’s your imagination. I didn’t see
anything.” Lily let go of the gate and settled back down on the balls of her
feet.
“I guess you’re right.” Danielle
shrugged then glanced over the yard. “I wonder if some of these trees’ll need
to be removed.” She silently counted them. There were at least twenty on the
property.
“Trees can play havoc with your
plumbing. This place is definitely overgrown. It’s like a jungle.”
“I suppose I should be grateful the
plants aren’t all dead.”
“When are they going to be here with
that key?” Lily glanced down the street.
Danielle pulled a cellphone from her
back pocket and looked at the time. “They should’ve been here by now.”
“I can’t wait to see inside. Are you
sure you want to stay at the motel tonight? We could bring our stuff over and
just stay here.”
“We already paid for the room. Anyway, I
want to see the condition of the property first hand,” Danielle said.
“I bet we can see the ocean from that
attic window. I think I’m jealous you get to live here,” Lily said with a
laugh. “I wish they’d bring that key.”
A moment later Lily got her wish when a
black BMW pulled up and parked in front of Marlow House.
“Danielle Boatman?” the driver called
out as she stepped from her vehicle carrying a manila envelope. The woman
slammed the car door shut and walked directly to Danielle who offered her hand
in greeting.
“It’s nice to finally meet you in
person,” the woman said as she shook Danielle’s hand. “I’m Gloria Comings, Mr.
Renton’s assistant. I assume you’re Danielle Boatman.”
“Yes. Nice to meet you at last Ms.
Comings. This is my friend, Lily Miller.”
“Nice to meet you Ms. Miller.” Gloria
quickly shook Lily’s hand then turned her attention back to Danielle. “Mr.
Renton was very sorry he wasn’t able to meet with you today, Ms. Boatman.
Unfortunately he was detained in New York, and it looks like he’ll be there a
few more days.”
“That’s fine. As long as I can get the
keys, and I’m assured all of this is finally settled.”
“Oh, of course.” Gloria handed the
manila envelope to Danielle. “You’ll find the keys inside, along with all the
necessary papers. Mr. Renton instructed me to include a checklist. If you have any
questions, please feel free to call me.”
“Is there any chance someone’s inside
the house right now?” Danielle asked.
“Inside the house? Not unless there’s
been a break in. Why? Have you seen something suspicious?” Gloria asked,
glancing at the house.
“She thought she saw something in the
attic, but I didn’t see anything,” Lily said.
“The gate appears to be locked,” Gloria
noted as she inspected the sturdy padlock. “The cleaning lady was here this
morning, and went through the entire house. Unless you find some broken windows
or unlocked doors, I seriously doubt you have a problem. I can’t recall any
break-ins on this property since I’ve worked for Mr. Renton. But of course, if
you want me to come in with you…”
“Oh no, that’s fine.” Danielle opened
the envelope and tucked her hand inside, searching for the keys.
“I’m afraid I’m running a little late.
I should get going; I’ve another appointment. Things are a little upside down
at the office, with Mr. Renton out of town.”
“Of course. I appreciate you bringing
this to me.” Danielle smiled, now holding a key ring in her hand.
“Will you be staying at the house
tonight?” Gloria asked.
“We rented a room at the Seahorse Motel.
I know your office said the inside of the house was in relatively good
shape—considering everything, but I think I’d like to have a look and see what
needs to be done before I move in.”
“You obviously weren’t deterred by that
old superstition,” Gloria said.
“I’m not particularly superstitious,” Danielle
said.
What superstition?
Lily wondered. She was about to voice the question when her cellphone rang.
Moving away from Danielle and Gloria she answered her phone while the other two
women talked.
Gloria looked at the vacant house. “I
suppose I should get going.” She glanced at her watch. “If you need anything,
you know how to contact me.”
Gloria had already said goodbye to
Danielle and was just getting into the BMW when Lily ended her phone call.
“That was my mom,” Lily explained as she
and Danielle waved to Gloria as she drove off. “She wanted to make sure we
arrived okay. I guess I should’ve called her when we first got in town.”
“Bad daughter,” Danielle teased. “You
ready to go see my house?”
“You bet!”
They turned and walked to the front
gate. Danielle stared up at the house, hesitating a moment so she could take
another look before going inside.
It really is a magnificent property,
she thought—and it was all hers. Fumbling with the keys, she searched for the
one to unlock the front gate.
“I suppose it would be considered a
Victorian?” Lily studied the house.
“I don’t know much about architecture. But
after they sent me a photograph I looked online to see what I could find. They
call the style a Second Empire Mansard House, or something like that. It
originated in France and became popular in the United States in the 1860s and
70s.”
A Victorian with intriguing curves and angles
, Danielle thought.
“When did you say it was built, 1871?” Lily
asked.
“Yes. About a year after the town was
founded.”
“Wow, and to think it’s been vacant
almost a hundred years.”
“Not quite ninety years. Since 1925. I
just hope the inside looks as good as the outside.”
“I still don’t know why they didn’t send
you some interior pictures. He couldn’t just snap some with his cellphone?”
“I don’t think attorneys want to spend
their time taking pictures for clients.” Danielle unlocked the front gate. “I
think Mr. Renton pretty much assumed I’d never come to see the property. He
figured I’d just have him sell it.”
Danielle led the way up the stone
walkway to the front porch of Marlow House. It had been difficult to see much
of the front yard from outside the gate, and now that she had a closer look she
wondered if the interior of the property was as neglected as its yard. The
plants hadn’t died, but she credited that to the Oregon coast’s damp climate.
She wondered when a gardener had last trimmed the bushes or mowed the lawn.
Taking a closer look at the property as
she made her way up the front steps, Danielle noted it could use a fresh coat
of paint, yet it wasn’t really in bad shape. She suspected it had been painted
sometime within the last decade, perhaps even more recent.
“Are you excited?” Lily asked as she
watched Danielle sort through the key ring, looking for the key to the front
door.
“Excited…a little nervous.” Danielle grinned
as she slipped a key into the vintage lock. “Who knows what we’ll find inside?”
• • • •
Walt had just walked down the stairs and
stepped onto the landing of the first floor when he heard it—a rattling at the
front door as if someone was attempting to spring the uncooperative lock with a
key. He had been meaning to replace the lock; Joanne always had a problem with
it. Yet, it couldn’t be Joanne, he thought. She had been there just that
morning and she only came once a week. Perhaps it was the woman with the
clipboard. If so, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with her today.
Whoever was wrestling with the key
finally managed to spring the lock. They were just pushing the door open when Walt
ducked into the powder room off the front entry hall, leaving the door slightly
ajar so he could observe his uninvited visitors.
The first one who came through the
doorway was the brunette he’d spied earlier, standing by the sidewalk peering
over his gate. Then he’d only glimpsed the upper half of her body and assumed
she was wearing a skirt with her fitted blouse. He was shocked to discover she
was dressed like a farmer, wearing manly denim work pants, several sizes too
small, considering the way they hugged her hips and accentuated the shape of
her womanly body. While he appreciated the outline of a woman’s form, it was
hardly appropriate or respectable attire for a young woman.
