The Ghost and the Mystery Writer (16 page)

W
hen Walt
eventually left Melony and Adam, he found Danielle and Chris in the living room. “Those two have a history,” he announced.

Rolling her eyes, Danielle shook her head and said, “I can't believe you followed them in there.”

Walt raised his eyebrows and smirked. “That means you don't want to know what I heard?” With a wave of his hand, a lit cigar appeared. He took a puff.

“Of course I want to hear,” Danielle confessed.

Chris chuckled. “What kind of history are we talking?”

“To begin with, the first thing she asked Adam when they went into the room was if he killed her mother.”

“She thought he killed her mother?” Danielle's eyes darted to the open doorway.

Walt shook his head. “I don't think it was a serious question. But from what was said, it was obvious there was no love lost between Jolene and Adam, and Melony mentioned something about Adam once threatening Jolene.”

“That's still an odd thing for her to ask Adam,” Chris said with a frown. “Even if she was joking, that humor is a little dark considering her mother was just murdered.”

“When they took him in for questioning after finding his fingerprints on the wine bottle, Marie did allude to some past between Melony and Adam, something that might make him appear guilty. I asked Adam about it, but he pretty much told me to mind my own business.”

“I suspect there was something romantic between those two.” Walt watched the smoke from his cigar curl and drift to the ceiling.

“Why do you say that?” Chris asked.

“When Melony asked him why he hadn't gotten married, he told her he had been in a long-term relationship, but she died.”

Danielle shrugged. “That's true. He dated Isabella for a long time—a long time for Adam.”

Walt looked at Danielle and shook his head. “He made it sound as if their relationship ended with her death. Completely different implication. And then, when she was asking him if he was seeing anyone—questioning him on the possibility of marriage in the future—”

Danielle interrupted Walt with a laugh. “Marie would love that. Sometimes I suspect it's what keeps her going; she's determined to see her grandson married. But Adam practically breaks out into hives when that topic comes up.”

Walt smiled. “According to what Adam just told Melony, he can't imagine ever getting married because he lost the love of his life.”

“Isabella?” Danielle frowned. “He called Isabella the love of his life?”

“He didn't mention her by name,” Walt told her. “But that's who Melony assumed he was talking about.”

Danielle started to say something, but grew silent when she heard the door to the parlor open and then heard Melony's and Adam's voices coming in their direction.

“Are you still going to show me your house?” Melony asked Chris a few moments later when she reached the doorway to the living room. “Adam said he would give me a lift down there.”

“You don't need to get back to the office?” Chris asked Adam.

“No. I'm the boss.”

Chris looked over at Danielle. “You coming with us?”

“I suppose.” She glanced over to Walt.

“Looks like a nice day out,” Walt told her. “Have fun.”

M
elony stood
on Chris's back patio and gazed out at the ocean. White puffy clouds, without a hint of gray, dotted the blue sky. Closing her eyes a moment, she took a deep breath—drinking in the cool, salty air. The sound of waves washing up on the nearby shore filled her head. The momentary sensation of isolation was broken a moment later when she heard the sliding glass door open.

“It's an amazing view, isn't it?” came Danielle's voice.

Melony turned toward the house and smiled at Danielle, who had just stepped out onto the patio. “I always said if I ever moved back to Frederickport, I'd have to get a house on the beach.” She turned back to face the ocean.

Danielle shut the sliding door behind her. She walked to Melony and asked, “Did you ever consider moving back? I imagine living in New York was a huge culture shock after growing up here.” She stood beside Melony. If they took just two more steps, they would be standing on the beach.

“I suppose it would have been had I moved directly from Frederickport to New York. But I moved from here when I was fourteen. I didn't move to New York until after I finished college.”

Danielle glanced to Melony. “I thought your family lived in Frederickport until your father died.”

“My parents did. Let's just say I was considered a bit of a wild child in my youth. My parents sent me off to a boarding school in France.”

Danielle studied Melony, who continued to gaze out to the ocean. “France?”

“I imagine my mother later regretted spending all that money shipping me over there, considering how she ended up losing everything.”

Danielle thought Melony sounded amused as opposed to regretful over the observation.

“So you never lived in Frederickport again?” Danielle asked.

“I never even came back for a visit. This is the first time I've been back since I left at age fourteen.”

“Wow…” Danielle muttered under her breath, unsure what to say.

“Funny thing…” Melony let out a deep sigh before continuing. “This place still feels like home—the good parts of home I remember. I never realized how much I missed it until just now.”

Danielle studied Melony for a moment. “I thought you were friends with Chief MacDonald's late wife.”

Melony turned to Danielle and smiled. “You know Eddy?”

“Eddy?” Danielle choked out, suppressing a laugh.

“I guess he's not called Eddy anymore?” Melony asked with a smile.

“Umm…no, not really.”

“His wife and I were roommates in college. She was a good person. They always say the good ones die young.”

“I assumed you were friends from Frederickport.”

Melony shook her head. “No. It was one of those small-world things. My roommate ends up moving to my hometown after she gets married. But we always kept in touch. Once a year we'd meet up someplace for a girls' weekend. I miss that.”

“The chief is a good guy. We've become close friends.”

Melony looked at Danielle and cocked her brow. “Close friends? I…well, I sort of assumed you were the one Chris was talking about.”

Danielle frowned. “I'm not sure what you mean.”

“When you said you and Eddy were close friends, did you—”

“No!” Danielle interrupted with a laugh. “Not that kind of friend. I consider the chief a good friend, but strictly platonic. In fact, he's dating a nice lady named Carol Ann.”

Melony shrugged. “Well, he's a great guy. I just want to see him happy.” She studied Danielle a moment and then asked, “So you and Chris, I was right? You two a couple?”

Danielle glanced to the sliding glass door and then back to Melony. “Honestly, I'm not sure what Chris and I are exactly. It's sort of complicated.”

Melony looked back to the ocean and laughed. “Isn't it always?”

“I suppose it is.” Danielle smiled.

“I'm in the middle of a somewhat amicable divorce.” Melony glanced at Danielle for a moment. “You ever been married?”

“Yes. He was killed in a car accident over a year ago.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.”

With a wry chuckle, Danielle said, “That relationship was also complicated.”

Melony laughed and then glanced briefly to the closed sliding door. “What are the guys doing, anyway?”

“I think Chris is still showing Adam his car.”

“Still? What is there to show?”

Danielle shrugged. “The last time I looked, Chris was opening the hood so Adam could look at the engine.”

“You want to take a walk down on the beach? I'm dying to get my feet wet.”

“The water's cold,” Danielle warned.

“Which is why my feet are the only things getting wet.” Melony slipped off her shoes and tossed them aside.

When they reached the water's edge, Melony began asking Danielle about the
Eva Aphrodite
. She had read about its mysterious appearance and then departure and understood it had washed up on the north side of town. Danielle pointed to the area where the ship had beached itself—
with Jack's help
.

The two women stood by the shore's edge. Water from the incoming waves washed toward them, threatening to soak their feet. So far, they remained dry. The topic of conversation shifted when Melony started telling Danielle about a family friend who lived along this stretch of the beach, when a woman's shout distracted Danielle. “You came!”

Turning to the ocean, toward the shout, Danielle found herself staring into the face of Jolene Carmichael. As she had at the pier, Jolene ignored Danielle, this time focusing her attention on her daughter.

Oblivious to her mother's ghostly presence, Melony prattled on, speculating as to which house along this stretch of the beach had belonged to their friend.

“I was just trying to protect you!” Jolene cried out to Melony. She hovered over the water, less than four feet away. Outstretching her arms, reaching for Melony, she begged, “Please don't ignore me!” In the next instant she vanished.

“Do you know?” Melony asked.

Danielle blinked her eyes and glanced around, looking for Jolene.

“Danielle?”

Giving herself an internal shake, Danielle looked to Melony and smiled sheepishly. “I'm sorry, I didn't hear what you said. I…I thought I heard a woman shouting. It must have been my imagination.”

“I was just asking if you knew if Pete Rogers still lives in this neighborhood.”

“Pete?” Danielle frowned.

“Yes. He was the family friend I was just telling you about. When I was a kid, we used to have cookouts on the beach behind his house. I wondered if he still lived in Frederickport.”

“Yeah, Pete's still here. When the
Eva Aphrodite
washed up on shore, the historical society wanted to see about keeping it here as some sort of historical exhibit. Pete was not thrilled with the idea. Fortunately, that problem took care of itself when it washed back out to sea and sank.”

“I saw the pictures online. I can't say I blame him. It would be a shame to spoil this view.” Melony turned toward the row of houses and pointed to one. “I think that's Pete's house.”

“You're right. It is.”

Melony grinned. “I thought it was. Do you mind if we walk over and say hi?”

A few minutes later, Melony and Danielle stood at Pete's back door. After knocking several times, they decided he wasn't home.

“I can walk over later and say hi,” Melony said.

As they made their way back to Chris's, Melony asked, “Do you know Pete very well?”

“Not really. When the
Eva Aphrodite
washed up, he thought I should pay to haul it off since it was once owned by Walt Marlow.”

Melony laughed. “That sounds like Pete. He was always kind of tight. I just appreciated the cookouts he'd have behind his house. Those are some of the good memories I have about living in Frederickport.”

M
ax's purr
reminded Walt of the electric fan Joanne sometimes used in the kitchen. Lazily stretched out across the attic windowsill—eyes closed—Max's chin rested on his front paws. Spittle dribbled down from his mouth, ignored by the woman absently stroking his back.

Hillary gazed out the glass pane, not noticing the hefty cat might at any second roll off his narrow perch. Her attention fixed on Danielle, who was down on the sidewalk, approaching Marlow House's front gate.

Walt studied Hillary as she stared out the window. He had found her standing by his spotting scope after Danielle had left the house with Chris, Melony, and Adam. He had been surprised to discover she had invaded his private space. He could only recall one or two times she had wandered up here. Walt had no idea what she was thinking, but when she stopped stroking Max, he observed the cat lift his head, open his eyes, and stare intently at the woman for several minutes. He knew exactly what the cat was thinking.

“Don't you dare bite her,” Walt warned.

Blinking once, Max turned his golden eyes to Walt and let out a loud meow.

Hearing the cat's cry, Hillary glanced down and smiled. Her hand moved over his silky fur. Max settled his chin back onto his paws and began purring again.

Walt shook his head and chuckled. “Max, you can't go around biting our guests just because they stop petting you. You'll get Danielle in trouble.”

Ignoring Walt, Max continued to purr. Enjoying the back rub, he stretched lazily and turned to one side. Misjudging the width of the windowsill, he promptly rolled off its edge and slid downward. Scrambling from his unexpected exit, Max managed to right himself and land on all four paws. Now disgusted, the displaced feline let out a loud meow, gave his body a shake, and strolled panther-like to the sofa bed. There, the cushions were wider and softer than the windowsill.

Hillary turned back to the window and looked out. She could no longer see Danielle and assumed she had probably come inside.

“
I
was
up in the attic. I love the view up there,” Hillary explained a few minutes later when she met Danielle on the second-floor landing.

“Yes, it is nice.” Danielle glanced to the ceiling, wondering if Walt was in the attic.

“Where is everyone?” Hillary asked.

“We took Melony to see Chris's house. And then Adam offered to take Melony to her mother's place so she can pick up Jolene's car. Chris stayed at his house. I imagine he's unpacking. I assume Lily's with Ian. I thought you'd be writing.”

“I needed a little break. I thought I heard something in the attic, so I went up there. Your cat was sleeping on the windowsill.”

“Max likes to look out that window.”
So does Walt.

“It's quite the view of the neighborhood. If I was you, I'd consider converting it into my bedroom. You'd have an ocean view.”

“Hmm, I hadn't thought of that.”
I wonder how Walt would like that idea?

“It would also make an excellent guest room, with that view. Have you ever considered renting it out?”

“Actually, we did rent it out over Christmas when we were booked up. The sofa up there makes into a bed. But it's a bit of a pain since there's not a bathroom up there.”
And I imagine Walt would have a fit if I made it a habit of renting out his attic.

“I suppose I should get back to work.” Hillary flashed Danielle a smile and then turned, heading back to her room.

Hillary was just opening her bedroom door when Danielle called out, “Can I ask you a question?”

Hillary paused and looked back at Danielle. “What?”

“I was curious. How do you happen to know Melony?”

Hillary's smile vanished. “You didn't ask her?”

Danielle shook her head. “No. I didn't.”

“Actually, Melony was my attorney.”

Before Danielle could respond, her cellphone began to ring. Hillary turned back to her bedroom door while Danielle pulled her phone from her sweater pocket and looked at it to see who was calling. Hillary retreated to her room.

“Hey, Chief.”

“I'm trying to get ahold of Hillary Hemmingway, but I don't have her cell number.”

Danielle glanced to Hillary's now closed bedroom door. “I assume it's about those notes?” Danielle asked in a whisper.

“Yes. I considered coming there again, but I'd rather she come down here.”

“She's in her room. I'm out in the hall. If you hold on, I'll get her for you.”

A few moments later Danielle knocked on her guest's door. When Hillary opened it, Danielle handed her the phone. “Chief MacDonald has been trying to get ahold of you.”

“
S
he doesn't seem
the least bit nervous,” Joe noted as he observed Hillary through the two-way mirror. The older woman, dressed in tan slacks and a smock-like thigh-length blouse adorned with embroidered birds and flowers, sat alone at the table in the interrogation room while he, Brian, and the chief watched.

Hillary glanced around the room curiously, and then she reached down and picked her purse up from the floor. Opening it, she removed a notepad and pen.

“What's she doing?” Joe asked.

“Looks like she's writing something down,” MacDonald said.

“Taking more notes for a future story. Impressions of a small-town interrogation room?” Brian chuckled.

“I really don't know why you had her come,” Joe said. “I'm sure she wrote those notes after she read the newspaper article. This seems like a waste of time.”

“Danielle was certain that trash can was filled the morning of the murder—before we found Jolene's rings,” the chief lied.

“Danielle does seem to know her trash,” Joe said with a dry chuckle.

“I would have liked to have seen that.” Brian laughed.

“I was tempted to snap a picture with my phone, but I figured there wasn't enough light.”

“Your phone has a flash,” Brian reminded him.

Joe dramatically snapped his fingers and said, “Damn, you're right.”

MacDonald shook his head and walked to the door. “I'm going to talk to her.”

“Are you sure you don't want one of us to do it?” Brian asked. “I know you've got other more important things to do.”

“No. I'd rather do it.”

W
hen MacDonald walked
into the interrogation room, Hillary quickly shut her notebook and then set her pen down. She smiled up at him. “I'm not sure why you wanted me to come down here. But this place provides wonderful story fodder. Do you think perhaps you might be able to give me a tour later? I'd love to see where you keep the prisoners.”

MacDonald tossed the folder he had been carrying onto the table and sat across from Hillary. “I think I can arrange something.”

Hillary pointed to the mirror. “That isn't a two-way mirror, is it?”

MacDonald glanced to the mirror and back to Hillary.

“Or did you just hang a regular mirror there to intimidate the people you interrogate?” Hillary leaned across the table and added in a dramatic whisper, “Make them think someone is watching them.”

MacDonald cocked a brow. “Do you think someone is watching you?”

Hillary glanced warily to the mirror, looked at it a moment, and then looked back at the chief. She studied him a moment and then laughed. “You're being funny.”

MacDonald leaned back in the chair and looked at her for a moment. “Ms. Hemmingway, why do you think I asked you in here today?”

“I imagine you're hoping I remembered something since the last time we spoke that might be able to help you. But I'm afraid I have nothing more to tell you. I wish I saw something—anything—that could help you. But I really didn't.” She smiled sweetly.

“I'd like to show you something. It might jog your memory.”

“Why certainly!” She beamed.

Opening the folder, MacDonald pulled out the crumpled sheet of legal-sized paper Danielle had given him. Yet now it was encased in transparent plastic. He slid it across the table to Hillary.

Eagerly, Hillary picked it up and looked at it. Her smile vanished. She stared blankly at the page. Finally, she set it on the table and looked at the chief.

“Did you write that?” he asked.

Hillary nodded. “Yes. Where did you get this?”

“That's not important right now. I would like you to tell me how you happened to write that?”

Licking her lips nervously, she stared down at the paper. “I really would like to know where you got this. I never let anyone see my notes—my story ideas—when I'm this early into a project. I knew I should have torn it up before I threw it in the trash.”

“So you admit you threw it away.”

She looked up, her expression no longer friendly. “Of course. I didn't need it anymore. Just random thoughts—my ideas. When I'm working on a new book, I find the ideas flow freer when I write them out longhand. Sometimes I don't even read the notes after I write them. It just helps me form thoughts, develop my storyline.”

“Did you throw these away right after you wrote them?”

“I threw them away yesterday afternoon.”

“Are you sure you threw them away yesterday?” MacDonald asked.

“Yes. I don't know why it matters. But you can ask Joanne. She came to my room and asked me if I had any trash to go out.”

J
oe looked
at Brian and shrugged. “I told the chief this was a waste of time. Danielle had it in her head Ms. Hemmingway tossed those notes before the article came out yesterday morning, which obviously didn't happen. Might as well let her leave. I don't imagine there's anything unusual about an author jotting down notes after reading a news article.”

“Can you tell me when you wrote this?” Joe and Brian heard MacDonald ask Hillary.