The Ghost of Marlow House (Haunting Danielle Book 1) (17 page)

When Danielle and Lily arrived in
Astoria the next morning they used the directions Adam had given them to locate
Emma Jackson’s house. It was a cheery little bungalow painted bright blue with
white trim.  An elderly black woman, whom they assumed was Emma Jackson, napped
peacefully in a rocking chair on the front porch. 

Lily and Danielle silently made their
way up the walk leading to the front steps of the Jackson home.
Reluctant
to wake the woman, they paused a moment when they reached the steps. When
deciding how to proceed, the front door opened and out walked a tall dark man
wearing crisply pressed gray slacks and a blue golf shirt.

“You must be Danielle and Lily,” the man
boomed. Both looked over at Emma, not wanting to startle the elderly woman
awake.

The man glanced for a moment to Emma
then back to Danielle and Lily. “Oh, Grandma won’t hear me.” He motioned for
them to come up. “She doesn’t have her hearing aids in. Can’t hear a thing
without them. We’ll need to wake her up if you want to talk to her. I’m Mathew
Jackson, Emma’s grandson. Please call me Mathew.”

 “Nice to meet you Mathew,” Danielle
said as she shook his hand and stepped onto the porch. “I’m Danielle Boatman
and this is my friend Lily Miller. But I hate to wake your grandma up from her
nap.”

“Ahhh, don’t be silly. Grandma is always
dozing off.” He shook Lily’s hand. “Grandma loves talking about the old days.
She’s quite the talker once you get her started, and when Sam called and said
you wanted to talk to her about Roger Calvert and Marlow House, she just perked
up.”

“Who’s Sam?” Lily asked.

“Sam’s a local Realtor. Goes to Grandma’s
church. He’s the one who contacted us about you,” Mathew explained.

“That must be Adam’s friend,” Danielle
told Lily.

“Do you live with your grandmother?” Lily
asked.

“No, I’m just visiting for her big
birthday bash the family has planned.” Mathew walked over to the rocking chair
and gently nudged his grandmother awake. Momentarily disoriented, Emma blinked
her eyes several times and looked around. When she noticed the two strangers
she tucked her hand in the front pocket of her blouse and pulled out her eye
glasses, which had hearing aids attached. After slipping on her glasses she
fitted the hearing aids in her ears.

“You the young women who want to talk to
me about Marlow House?” Emma asked, her voice as loud and clear as her
grandson’s.

“Yes ma’am. My name is Danielle Boatman
and this is my friend Lily Miller. I appreciate you taking time out of your day
to talk with us.”

Emma laughed. “All I seem to have these
days is time on my hands. Mathew, get these girls a glass of cold lemonade, they
look thirsty.”

Danielle started to say they didn’t need
anything to drink but Emma hushed her and sent Mathew into the house to fetch
the beverages.

“I understand you’re living at Marlow
House,” Emma asked after Lily and Danielle each took a chair on the porch.

“Yes. My great aunt was Kathrine
O’Malley’s daughter.  She’s the one who inherited the house after Walt Marlow
died.”

“Yes, I know who Kathrine O’Malley was.
She used to bring her daughter into the Bluebell for breakfast on Saturday
mornings. Little girl loved her pancakes.”

“You remember her?” Danielle wondered
how that was possible; it had been so many years.

“I remember many of the regulars from
the diner. Of course, it’s easier to remember the O’Malley woman, with her
inheriting all that money from Walt Marlow and dying so soon after marrying the
brother-in-law.”

“Roger Calvert,” Danielle said. Lily sat
quietly and listened.

“You know, it’s been years since I
talked to anyone about what happened back then. Seems all that people remember
these days is what they’ve been told to remember. But those things we’re told
usually aren’t what really happened. When a body lives over a hundred years and
you see things for yourself—firsthand—when you live them—then you see things
differently. How they really were.”

“Like how Walt Marlow reportedly died?”
Danielle asked.

“I don’t believe the man killed himself.
Never did. Not when that no account brother-in-law of his lied about being in
Frederickport the day he died.”

 Their conversation was interrupted for a
moment when Mathew returned to the patio carrying a tray with three glasses of
lemonade. He set the tray on a side table and handed a glass to each woman.
Emma waved away her glass, telling Mathew to drink it. He gave a little chuckle
and sat down next to his grandmother, glass in hand. Before they continued with
their conversation Lily and Danielle thanked him for the beverages and each
took a sip.

“So you did see Roger Calvert returning
from Frederickport?” Danielle asked.

“How did you know about that?” Emma
asked.

“I read some old newspaper articles
about Walt Marlow’s death. You were mentioned in a couple of them.”

“His car broke down. Had to wait for the
mechanic,” Emma said. “I’ve thought about it a lot during the years. I don’t
for a minute think he intended to go back to Frederickport that day but when he
ran into someone he knew, he had no choice but to pretend he had just arrived,
and was on his way into town.”

“Why did you recant your story?”
Danielle asked.

“Hal Tucker—he was on the local police
department back then—he paid me a visit and told me I shouldn’t be meddling in
white folks’ business. That if I knew what was good for me I needed to keep my
mouth shut.”

 “Did you ever consider going to his
superior officer and tell him Tucker threatened you?” Lily asked.

Emma looked at Lily and laughed, shaking
her head at the foolish question. “Wouldn’t have been a smart thing for me to
do. Tucker reminded me I was in Oregon illegally.”

“I don’t understand.” Lily frowned.

“During that time it was illegal for
blacks to live in Oregon,” Mathew explained.

“What are you talking about?” Danielle
asked. “What do you mean illegal?”

“The state voted against slavery, but it
didn’t mean they wanted us here as freemen. If someone brought slaves into the
state, they were required to free them within a certain time frame—and the
freed slave had a certain amount of time to leave Oregon before facing a whipping—or
indentured service,” Mathew told them. “I believe the laws were still on the
books until around 1926.”

“I had no idea,” Danielle said. “I’ve
always thought of Oregon as being a very liberal state.”

This time Mathew laughed. “I’m not sure
where you got that notion.”

“I guess because Portland is so…so…”
Danielle searched for the right word.

“Ah yes,
Keeping Portland Weird
—not
quite the same thing.” Mathew chuckled and then added, "The Klan was also
pretty active in Oregon during the Marlow incident.”

“That surprises me.” Danielle shook her
head in disbelief.

“So how did you live in Oregon if it was
illegal?” Lily asked.

“My grandparents arrived in Oregon as
slaves. When they were freed they didn’t leave,” Emma explained. “We weren’t
welcome here, but my parents were born in Oregon, and so was I. So were my
children. It was our home.”

They were silent for a few moments.
Danielle tried to comprehend what she had just heard.

“Why would Tucker want you to lie?” Lily
asked, breaking the silence.

“I know he and Roger Calvert were
fishing buddies. They used to stop in the diner on the weekends for breakfast.”

“He was covering for his friend?”
Danielle said.

“I imagine that was part of it. Plus he
was sweet on Roger’s sister, and at the time he probably figured the little gal
was coming into the Marlow fortune.”

“But what about when they discovered
Angela was dead?” Lily asked.

“He was probably like the rest of the
town; assumed Roger was inheriting the Marlow fortune, what with his sister
gone.” Emma rocked back in her chair.

“Do you think Tucker was involved?” Lily
asked.

“Never really got that impression,” Emma
said. “Always had the feeling he liked the idea of having a man with that kind
of wealth in his pocket. Not that Roger Calvert had any money, but he would
have—had he been Marlow’s heir. Of course, that didn’t quite work out for him,
since Kathrine inherited.”

“Did you ever tell anyone about the
officer threatening you?” Danielle asked.

“No, I wasn’t stupid,” Emma scoffed.

“Why are you so interested in something
that happened almost ninety years ago?” Mathew asked.

“Marlow House is my home now,” Danielle
explained. “I suppose I feel some obligation to Walt Marlow.”

“They say he hung himself, right?”
Mathew asked.

“Yes,” Danielle said. “But if he
didn’t—if he was murdered—I’d like to set the record straight.”

“I don’t understand how my grandmother
can help you prove he didn’t commit suicide.”

Danielle explained the old newspaper
articles she’d read mentioning his grandmother and how she had witnessed Roger
Calvert coming from Frederickport on the day he told authorities he was coming
from Portland.

“I suppose you don’t actually have to
prove your theory, since it’s not like you’re going to take anyone to court,”
Mathew said.

“That’s pretty much what I was thinking.
I just want to present some reasonable doubt concerning Walt Marlow’s supposed
suicide.” Danielle then turned to Emma and asked, “How did you know the officer
was sweet on Angela?”

“Hal Tucker? I learned early on I’d best
be keeping my mouth shut if I didn’t want to attract the attention of someone
who didn’t take kindly to a person of color,” Emma explained. “That meant I had
more time for listening. When those two would come in for breakfast Roger used
to tease Tucker about being sweet on his sister, and the man never denied it.”

“What about the mechanic?” Lily asked.

“Mechanic?” Danielle turned to her friend.

“You guys mentioned Roger had to spend
the night and see the mechanic. Weren’t they worried the mechanic would
contradict Roger’s story?”

“I hadn’t considered that,” Danielle
murmured before looking at Emma.

“The mechanic was Mathew’s grandpa,”
Emma explained.

“He was your husband?” Danielle asked.

“We hadn’t been married long. Emmett—my
husband—didn’t want to get involved and told me to keep quiet. I was pretty
strong willed back then and when the reporter stopped in the diner I told her
about seeing Roger Calvert. I didn’t mention the mechanic was my husband, and
she never asked. After Tucker talked to me, Emmett was pretty angry, so I
recanted my story.”

“Did the reporter ever talk to your
husband?” Danielle asked.

“After she talked to me she stopped by
the garage, but he told her he didn’t know what she was talking about. After
that, it was pretty easy to convince her I got confused.”

“Do you remember anything else about
Roger Calvert—anything else about that day?” Danielle asked.

“Just that he was real agitated. He was
in a hurry to get back to Portland. Of course he didn’t return to Portland
after Emmett fixed his car. He went back to Frederickport. At the time I didn’t
know Walt Marlow had been killed. I’d seen Roger Calvert before, noticed him
when he came in with Hal Tucker, when the two would go fishing. I knew he was
Marlow’s brother-in-law; the Marlows were a well known family in the area.”

“It’s amazing you can remember it all,”
Lily said. “It was so long ago.”

“I’ve thought a lot about it over the
years,” Emma said. “Troubled me to think Roger Calvert may have gotten away
with murder. Eased my conscience a bit when he was killed within a year after
Marlow. I figured the good Lord had his own way of dealing with the man’s
sins.”

 “I’m planning to put together an
article on Walt Marlow’s death that will suggest he didn’t kill himself but was
murdered. I would like your permission to include what you’ve told me
today—about why you recanted the story,” Danielle asked Emma.

“You have my permission. But, not sure
people will care after all these years.”

Adam Nichols and Bill Jones entered the
grounds of Marlow House from the back alley. Adam didn’t want his mother’s
tenant to notice he and Bill were lurking around the property. Before picking
up Bill, he’d parked along the highway, watching for Danielle’s car to pass by.
He wanted to make sure she’d taken Lily with her. Once he was certain Danielle
and Lily were safely on their way to Astoria he picked up Bill. Instead of
driving to Marlow House, Adam drove to one of his vacant rentals about a block
away. After parking his car there, he and Bill walked the rest of the way.

• • • •

On the parlor sofa, Walt focused his
attention on the flat screen television as it repeatedly switched channels.
When it landed on something that interested him, Walt would watch for a while
before changing stations again.

Danielle had called it channel surfing. 
He thought that a peculiar term and couldn’t quite understand what surfing had
to do with rapidly changing channels on a television. It made absolutely no
sense to him. She had also pointed out that people typically used a remote,
whereas he used…
what did he use?
He wasn’t quite sure how he did it.   

He had just settled on a show to watch
when he heard what sounded like glass breaking in another part of the house.
Turning toward the doorway, he willed the television to turn off. He moved
effortlessly from the sofa toward the sound, and in the next moment he was in
the library.

“What the hell did you break the window
for?” a man asked as he gingerly reached through the now broken window to
unlock its latch and before sliding it open—careful not to cut himself on the
jagged glass. It took Walt just a moment to recognize the man. He was Marie
Hemming’s grandson, Adam Nichols.

“What are you doing breaking into my
home?” Walt boomed.

“It wasn’t my fault. I was trying to
jimmy it open,” the second man said.

Walt recognized the second man, but
couldn’t recall his name. He wasn’t sure he had ever heard it. He just knew
this was the same man who had accompanied Adam to his house when Marie’s
grandson delivered the box of old photographs.

“Well dammit, I was planning to use the
door, not climb through the window.”

“Maybe you can’t hear me, but I promise
Danielle will hear about this!” Walt fumed.

“You have a key?” Bill asked.

“No, I don’t have a damn key,” Adam said
as he climbed through the window. “But I was going to pick the lock.”

“You could’ve told me that,” Bill
grumbled as he followed Adam through the window. “This sure would have been
easier if we had started looking before that Boatman woman and her friend moved
in.”

“Why are you here? Dammit,
hear me!
Hear me
, I insist!” Walt fumed.

“I like this room,” Adam said as he
looked around, dusting his hands off on the sides of his slacks.  He walked to
the closest book shelf and began pulling books off the shelf, one by one. After
inspecting each book, he placed it back on the bookshelf and grabbed another
one.

“Are you going to stand there or are you
going to help me?” Adam asked impatiently.

“What are you doing?” Bill asked.

“People often hide things in books.
Haven’t you ever seen those boxes that look like books? They’re hollow inside.
A perfect way to hide something in plain sight,” Adam said as he continued to
examine the books.

“You think he put it in one of the
books?”

“What are you looking for?” Walt
demanded, frustrated that they couldn’t hear him.

“It would be a good hiding place—good as
any.”

“Hell, you don’t really expect to go
through all these books?”  Bill’s gaze swept across both book shelves.

“Yes, I do.”

“But it will take forever!”

“It will, if you keep standing there,”
Adam snapped.

“I thought we agreed the attic was the
most likely place to look.”

“If you hurry up and help me we can get
to that.”

“Fine,” Bill grumbled before moving to
the far bookshelf.

Silently Walt watched as the two men
methodically searched through the books.
What are they looking for?
He
wondered. Frustrated, he walked to Adam and tried snatching a book from the
man’s grasp. Walt’s hand moved effortlessly through the book and Adam’s wrist.
While Walt was unable to take hold of the object, Adam paused a moment, still
clutching the book and looked around.

“That was weird,” Adam said, looking
around.

“What was weird?” Bill looked over at
Adam.

“It felt like…” Adam shook his head.

“Felt like what?” Bill asked.

“I don’t know, like someone tried to
grab my wrist.”

“Ahhh ha! That’s more like it!” Feeling
a sense of power, Walt tried grabbing Adam’s wrist. Once again his hand moved
through Adam. Unfortunately, this time, Adam didn’t seem to notice the attempt.
Instead, the burglar went back to checking the books, oblivious to the frustrated
ghost who stood by his side, repeatedly snatching at his wrist and hand, to no
avail.

Adam and Bill made it about half way
through the book shelves when they heard what sounded like an electric motor
coming from the direction of the back yard. Bill tucked the book he was looking
at back in the shelf and quickly went to the window and looked outside.

“I thought you said no one was going to
be here!” Bill hissed. Adam quickly stopped what he was doing and moved to the
window next to Bill and looked out. A truck was now parked in the back yard
while a man trimmed hedges on the far side of the yard.

“Damn, she must have hired a gardener.
What’s he doing working on a Saturday?”

 “What are we going to do now?”

“Now you’re going to get arrested—just
as soon as the gardener sees what you’ve done,” Walt said.

“If we stay in here, he might notice us
through the window. We should probably just go upstairs and look up there.”

“What about the broken window?” Bill
asked.

“Yes, what about that window? Do you
honestly think he’ll overlook a broken window?” Walt asked.

“Hopefully he won’t notice the
window—which is why I don’t want to draw his attention by moving around in this
room.”

“He may not know the house is supposed
to be empty,” Bill said.

“But maybe he does. Come on; let’s get
the hell out of here and go up stairs, while we still have some time.”

“You are not to go upstairs!” Walt said
angrily, following the men out of the room and up the staircase to the second
floor. The first room they entered was his bedroom—
Danielle’s bedroom
.

Helplessly Walt watched as the two men
entered the room and started inspecting the paneling. Angry, he willed the
television to turn on. It did so at full volume.

“Ahhh haa!” Walt said triumphantly.

Startled, Bill jumped back from the
unexpected sound and shouted, “Holy crap!” Both he and Adam stared at the
television. It rapidly changed channels. “Hell, that thing is still broken. I
can’t believe it just turns on by itself.”

“Well I can fix that,” Adam said angrily
as he walked to the set. Reaching down he grabbed its electric cord and jerked
the plug from the wall. The television went silent. “See, now let’s hurry up.”
Adam turned his back to Bill and opened a closet.

Closing his eyes Walt focused on the
television. Once again it turned on.

“Not funny Bill,” Adam snapped turning
to face the television. Bill stood wide eyed watching the television in stony
silence. Adam failed to notice Bill’s odd expression. Reaching down, Adam
pulled the plug from the wall a second time. “Stop fooling around!”

“I didn’t do anything,” Bill stammered. 

Adam cursed under his breath and went
back to searching the closet. The set turned on again.

“Dammit Bill, I said stop screwing
around!” Adam swung around to face Bill. Instead of making another denial, Bill
pointed to the television, shaking his head in disbelief. Annoyed, Adam looked
to where Bill was pointing—to the set’s cord—which remained unplugged in spite
of the fact the television continued to blare.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Adam murmured,
staring at the screen.

“It isn’t plugged in…how is that
possible?” Bill stammered.
And how did it plug itself in the other time?

“Must be some electrical glitch,” Adam
suggested.

“Electrical glitch?” 

“Yeah. I’ve heard it’s dangerous to work
on computer monitors, because you can get electrocuted even if they’re
unplugged. Somehow the power stays trapped in there. These new flat screens are
sort of like computer monitors, maybe they’re the same way.”

“You mean they can turn on even when
they’re not plugged into the wall?”

“I guess,” Adam shrugged. “I mean look,
it’s still running and not plugged in. That must be what’s happening.”

“I don’t know, Adam…”

“Oh come on, let’s get out of here and
check the rest of the house.” Adam hurried out of the room, unconcerned. Bill
continued to stare at the television as he backed out of the room.

Reluctantly, Walt left the bedroom and
watched as the two men looked through the remaining rooms on the second floor.
He then followed them upstairs to the attic.  The men rummaged through boxes
and tested the paneling for loose boards.

“If you’re looking for what I think you
are—you won’t find it.” Walt snapped, irritated that they couldn’t hear him.

What had Danielle said
,
he asked himself.
I can use my energy to move things...in the same way I
turn the television channels, plug in the set and open doors
.  Glancing
around the room, he watched as Adam searched one end of the attic while Bill
searched the opposite end, their backs to each other.

Walt’s eyes widened when he noticed Adam
focusing his attention on a specific piece of paneling near the floor.
Frantically he looked around the room, searching for something he might use
when he spied a croquet set in the far corner. Walt stared at one of the balls,
willing it to rise up. It just sat there.
I was able to pick up the magazines
and read them, why can’t I pick up the ball?
He wondered.
Why couldn’t I
grab the book in the library?

He considered the situation, thinking
back to when he first discovered Lily’s stack of magazines. At the time it took
no effort to lift the magazines. In fact, he hadn’t even thought about what he
was doing, he just did it.
Is that the key
? he wondered.
Do I just
have to do it—know I can do it, without over-thinking the situation?

Determined, he walked over to the
croquet set and picked up one of the wooden balls. Instead of it passing
through his hand as had the book in the library, the ball stayed put in his
palm until he pitched it across the room and hit Adam in the back of the
shoulder.

Adam let out a cry of pain. Angrily he
turned to Bill who seemed oblivious to what had just happened. Furious, Adam reached
down, picked the wooden ball off the floor and heaved it at Bill, hitting him
soundly on the side of his arm.

“Damn!” Bill clutched his left arm and
turned to face Adam. He was about to ask him why he had hit him when another
ball flew in his direction—this one not thrown by Adam. Bill managed to avoid
the missile, while Adam was not so lucky.

Before they had time to register what
was happening, another ball flew in Bill’s direction—and then one to Adam. When
all the balls had been tossed a croquet mallet flew across the room, followed
by a second and then a third.

The color drained from the men’s faces
as they turned toward the door and flew from the attic, each shoving the other
aside in an attempt to be the first one to escape.

Walt could hear the sound of the men’s
footsteps as they ran down the staircase. Laughing, he walked to the attic
window and looked outside. He watched as Bill and Adam raced from the front
door and down the walkway and through the gate, disappearing down the street.