The Ghost of Marlow House (Haunting Danielle Book 1) (13 page)

Driving down the street toward Marlow
House, Joanne Johnson noticed a man and woman standing by its front gate. She
thought there was something familiar about the man, but she was too far away to
see him clearly. Just as she pulled up in front of the house and parked, the
man sprinted in front of her car before crossing the street. He didn’t seem to
notice Joanne as he raced by the front of her car, yet she recognized him
immediately, or at least she thought she did—
Jon Altar
.  She glanced up
at Marlow House and noticed the woman, a petite redhead, was still standing by
the gate, waving goodbye to the man. Glancing back at him, Joanne watched as he
went into the house across the street.

That’s odd
,
Joanne thought as she turned off her engine and grabbed her purse from the
passenger seat. Exiting the car she glanced up at Marlow House and noticed the
redhead had just gone through the gate.

By the time Joanne made it to the front
door of Marlow House, the redhead had already gone inside. Standing at the
door, she rang the bell. A few moments later a brunette answered the door.

“Hello, can I help you?” Danielle
greeted. Her fingers absently combed through her now curly hair, which had just
moments earlier been freed from its braid.

“I’m Joanne Johnson. I’m here to see
Danielle Boatman.”

“Oh, hello!” Danielle beamed, opening
the door wider. “I’m Danielle. Please come in.”

“Thank you.” Joanne stepped through the
doorway clutching her handbag. She glanced around as if she expected the entry
to look different from the last time she had been at the house. It didn’t.

“I guess I have you to thank for keeping
this house in such wonderful condition,” Danielle said as she closed the door. 
At that moment Lily stepped out from the parlor to see who had arrived.

“Lily, come,” Danielle said. “This is
Joanne Johnson, the one who worked for my aunt all those years. Ms. Johnson,
this is my friend Lily.”

“Almost twenty-five years,” Joanne said
as she nodded hello to Lily. “But please, call me Joanne.”

“Nice to meet you, Joanne. I have to
agree with Dani, the house looked great when we arrived.”

“Thank you. I hope you found everything
in order. I wanted to leave you something in the kitchen, a few groceries, so
you’d have something when you arrived. But the icebox hasn’t worked for years.”

“That’s okay. I suppose we have you to
thank for the toilet paper—for that we definitely thank you.” Danielle laughed.
“Let’s go into the parlor, it’s more comfortable.”

“Parlor?” Joanne raised her brow as she
followed Lily and Danielle into the small room. “You call it a parlor?”

“Well, isn’t that what they used to call
this room?” Danielle asked as she showed Joanne to the small sofa.

“Yes, but I haven’t heard that term in
years. It’s very quaint.” Joanne smiled.

“I rather like the sound of
parlor
.”
Danielle grinned. “I believe every bed and breakfast should have one.”

“I heard you were thinking of turning
Marlow House into a bed and breakfast.” Joanne sat on the sofa and glanced
around. They hadn’t made any changes, except for an addition of a television on
the far wall.

“News sure travels fast in this town,”
Danielle said.

“Yes…yes it does. I was wondering, is
Jon Altar staying in the house across the street? I must say I was a little
surprised to see him here.”

“I’m sorry, who?” Danielle asked.

“Jon Altar, he was just leaving when I
arrived.” Joanne turned to Lily and said, “You were talking to him at the front
gate.”

“You mean just a few minutes ago?” Lily
asked.

“Yes. Right when I drove up.”

“That was Ian Bartley. He’s renting the
house across the street.”

“No, that can’t be right. Not unless he’s
Jon Altar’s twin,” Joanne insisted.

“Jon Altar, why is that name familiar?”
Danielle asked.

“He’s an author.  Maybe you’ve read his
work. I never have, but he interviewed me about Marlow House.”

“About Marlow House? What did he want to
know about Marlow House?” Danielle asked.

Confused, Lily looked from Joanne to
Danielle.

“Apparently he’s writing a travel book
about the Oregon coast, featuring some of the old houses and their history. He wanted
to know about the house’s history. I was just surprised to see him again so
soon. I had no idea he was renting a house here.”

“There has to be some mistake,” Lily
insisted. “You’re confusing Ian for this Jon. Ian’s a teacher, not a writer.”

“I told you he wasn’t a teacher,” Walt
said, appearing in the room.

“If that wasn’t Jon Altar then it’s true
what they say, we all have a double. And in this case they are both Cubs fans.”

“Cubs fans?” Lily asked.

“Why, yes. When Jon Altar interviewed me
he was wearing a Cubs baseball hat just like your friend.”

Lily and Danielle exchanged questioning
glances.

“Why would he lie about something like
that?” Lily asked.

“Like I said, I told you he wasn’t a
teacher!” Walt reiterated. Danielle shot him a dirty look. She found him
distracting, and the fact she was the only one in the room who could see or
hear him, added to her annoyance. She wanted nothing more than to be able to
tell him to be quiet so they could figure this thing out.

“She did ask me not to discuss the book
he was working on. I suppose I shouldn’t have said anything to you,” Joanne
said.

“She?” Danielle asked.

“He was with a woman. She asked me not
to discuss the book.”

“Who was the woman?” Danielle asked.

“He didn’t say exactly. I got the
impression it was his wife.”

“You’re saying he’s married?” Lily asked.

“I can’t say for sure. But the way they
acted, that was the general impression I got. You know, a husband and wife
team.”

“There has to be some mistake,” Lily
muttered.

“Do you smell that?” Joanne asked
abruptly.

Lily sniffed the air. “Yeah, cigar
smoke. Smells just like the brand my grandpa smokes.”

“It is the oddest thing,” Joanne said.
“Every once in a while I get a whiff of that smell in this house. I’ve often
imagined it was Walt Marlow smoking a cigar.”

“See, I knew Joanne wasn’t completely
ignoring me all these years.” Walt sounded pleased with himself. He took a seat
on the sofa next to Joanne.

“I imagine you’re wondering why I’m
here!” Joanne realized she hadn’t stated her reason for the visit.

“Yes, I suppose I did wonder. But I’ve
been wanting to meet you,” Danielle said.

“I found an extra set of keys to the
house, and I figured I’d bring them to you rather than dropping them off at Mr.
Renton’s office.” Joanne opened her purse and started looking for the keys.

“You said you’ve been cleaning for my
aunt for twenty-five years?”

“Yes. But you know, in all that time I
never met her. She never visited Marlow House. I always thought that was such a
shame, this place going to waste. A few years back I thought I’d meet her
because she ordered the new beds.”

“I understand she was planning to come,
but something came up,” Danielle said.

“Yes. Her husband died.”

“That’s right…I didn’t think about that,
but that was about the time he got ill and passed away. I wonder why she didn’t
come—after.”

“I don’t think your aunt wanted to live
in this big house all alone. Although we never met, we talked on the phone from
time to time. She would call to check on the house, see if it needed any
repairs.”

“I wonder why she didn’t sell it,”
Danielle said.

“I got the impression she always
intended to come back.” Finding the keys, Joanne pulled them from her purse,
stood up and handed them to Danielle.

“Yes, but it was never really her home. So,
it’s not like she would actually be coming back.” Danielle took the keys from
Joanne.

“I suppose you’re right.” Joanne sighed.

“I was wondering,” Danielle asked,
holding the keys in her hand. “I’ll be needing a housekeeper—especially when we
open for business. I don’t know if you’re taking any new jobs, or if you’ll be
interested. But I’d like you to consider. The only problem, I’d need someone
for more than one day a week.”

“That sounds interesting,” Joanne said.
“I’ve always had a soft spot for Marlow House. Let me think about it and I’ll
get back to you. Do you have a phone?”

“Yes. In fact we just had our landline
hooked up.” Danielle walked to the small desk in the corner and opened a
drawer. It was empty. “I really need to get some paper and pens to keep in
here.” She closed the drawer.

“Here, I’ve a pen and paper.” Joanne
fished back in her purse again and found a slip of paper and pencil. She handed
them to Danielle, who jotted down her name and phone number, before handing the
paper and pencil back to Joanne.

They chatted for about fifteen more
minutes before Joanne told them she needed to be going. Lily and Danielle
walked her to the front door, said goodbye and watched her walk toward the
front gate. Lily lingered at the open doorway after Joanne got into her car and
drove away.

“You coming in?” Danielle asked from the
entry hall.

“In a minute,” Lily sighed.

“What’s wrong Lily?”

“Do you think she was right? Is Ian
really this Jon guy? Is he married?”

“I don’t know. But I can’t see why he
would hide something like that. And why keep some travel book a secret?”

“He did seem pretty interested in this
house,” Lily said.

“I know, but why not just come out and
tell us he’s writing a travel book and wants to include Marlow House? Heck, I’d
love something like that—it would be great for business.”

“You think he’s married?”

“I don’t know. But Joanne admitted she
was only speculating. Maybe the woman is his editor or something. And as far as
we know Joanne may be wrong. Ian might just look like this Jon guy.”

“And they’re both Cub fans?”

In a long nightgown, with her back to
the open doorway of the bedroom she was using, Lily pulled down the blankets
and sheets of her bed.

“How are you doing?” Danielle asked from
the doorway. Lily turned to face her.

“Fine, I guess.” Lily shrugged.

“You’re going to bed already? It’s kind
of early.”

“I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I feel
drained.” Lily got into the bed and pulled the covers over her.

“I was getting ready to hook up my
laptop, take my new Wi-Fi for a test run. Figured we could Google this Jon
Altar character, see if we can find any pictures of him. If he’s an author, he
must have some sort of web presence.”

“You go ahead. You can tell me what you
find in the morning. I don’t want to deal with this now.”

“You really liked this guy, didn’t you?”
Danielle walked into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the mattress.

“I just met him Tuesday.”

“But you wanted to get to know him
better?”

“I guess…I mean, I really enjoyed
spending time with him. I thought he liked me too.”

“Who’s to say he doesn’t?”

“For one thing, if he really is this
author guy, he lied to us. And if he is married, well that really pisses me
off. Yet to be honest, I have no right to be pissed off about it since we just
met and it’s not like we went on a real date or anything.”

“I know how awful it feels to be
betrayed by someone you care about.”

“Lucas…yeah…I thought about that
tonight. I imagine that betrayal felt ten times worse than mine, considering
everything.”

“Yes…well…like that old cliché says:
time
heals all wounds
,” Danielle said.

“But does it really?”

“I don’t know.” Danielle shrugged.
“Maybe it just dulls the pain. Perhaps the better cliché to cite would be:
when
one door shuts, another opens
.”

“Marlow House is that other door?”

“I hope so.”

“Do you think you’re going to be happy
here?”

“No guarantees on happiness. But it will
at least keep me occupied.”

“I’m glad you’re turning the place into
a B and B. I’d worry about you being lonely after I leave.”

“Well, this house…” Danielle glanced
around the room. “…has a life of its own.”

“Do you think you’re going to miss your
company…your job?”

“Considering what happened…no. Too many
memories. Plus I can see it now…each time someone new is hired, one of the
employees will feel compelled to tell them the tragic story of Lucas and
Danielle. It was stupid of me to let Lucas hang that ridiculous portrait of us
in the lobby.”

“It wasn’t ridiculous.”

“If you think about it, the only way I
could take that damn portrait down—considering all that happened—was by selling
the company.”

“You gave it to Lucas’s mom?”

“I think she was grateful I didn’t burn
it.”

Danielle stood up and then asked, “You
sure you don’t want to go surfing with me?”

“No, I’m going to go to sleep. You tell
me what you find in the morning.”

When Danielle returned to her bedroom
she found Walt sitting on the edge of her bed, watching television. Grabbing
her pajama bottoms and t-shirt she headed for the bathroom. Absorbed in the
television program he was watching, Walt failed to notice Danielle.

Walt was still watching television when
Danielle returned to the bedroom twenty minutes later, wearing her pajama
bottoms and t-shirt, and carrying her laptop computer.

“Don’t think you’re going to be watching
that all night,” Danielle warned as she climbed onto her bed. Leaning against
the headboard she sat up, her feet on the mattress, and placed the laptop on
her lap and opened it.

“What’s that?” Walt asked, turning to
Danielle. The television turned off.

“It’s a laptop computer,” Danielle
explained as she powered it up. “Another technological advancement of my
generation.”

“So that’s what one looks like…” Walt
sat next to Danielle, looking over her shoulder.

“How did you know about laptops?”

“It’s amazing what one can learn from a
television. It is surprising people manage to get anything done with all these
fascinating distractions.”

“You aren’t the only one to wonder about
that,” Danielle murmured as she entered her Wi-Fi password and went online.

“It looks like a television in a
suitcase. What’s the difference?”

“You mean between a television and
computer?”

“Yes.” Walt leaned back on the
headboard, his eyes fixed on the laptop screen.

“Well…it’s a little like a library…full
of information. Sort of like a telephone, in that you can talk to people who
are on their computers. And you can use it like a typewriter, but instead of
your words going directly on paper, they’re saved in your computer, and you can
print them out later.”

“What are you doing with it now?”

“I’m trying to see if I can find out
anything on our neighbor, Ian.”

“I told you he wasn’t a teacher.”

“
Yes
, you’ve said that before.”

Walt watched as Danielle’s fingers
danced over the keyboard.

“So you can find out information on Ian
in there?”

“Well I’m not looking for Ian…yet. I’m
searching for Jon Altar the author….
Bingo!
”

“What?” Walt leaned closer to the laptop.
On the monitor was a picture of Ian.

“Oh crap…” Danielle moaned as she looked
at Jon Altar’s webpage and scrolled down to his photograph. If she thought it
was just an uncanny resemblance between the two men, that thought dissolved
when she spied the golden retriever by his side—whose name, according to the webpage,
was
Sadie
.

“Why would he hide the fact he was an
author. Why lie about his name?” Danielle asked as she clicked through his
website, reading all that she could find on the man.

“I don’t understand,” Danielle said.

“What?” Walt asked, confused by what he
was seeing.

“Joanne said Jon Altar was working on a
travel book. According to this, he doesn’t write those kinds of books. He does
write non-fiction, but his are more…well…edgy…they’re about real life mysteries
and intrigue. Now I know why his name sounded familiar. I’ve seen a couple of
his specials on television.  Travel shows are not his thing, unless he’s
changing genre, but I don’t see why he would.”

“Does it say anything about him being a
teacher?”

“Oh shut up about the teacher already!”
Danielle elbowed Walt, only to have it move through his body. 

Walt glanced down at his chest.
“That
wasn’t nice.”

Ignoring him, Danielle made another
search, this time for Ian Bartley.

“Well this is interesting,” Danielle
said a few moments later.

“What?”

“It seems our friend Ian isn’t a
complete liar. According to this article on Jon Altar the author, his real name
is Ian Bartley.  Jon Altar is a pen name. It doesn’t mention anything about a
wife or family.”

“Lily seemed rather upset. I believe she
liked him.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” Danielle
closed the laptop.

“What was that about you and Lucas’s
portrait?” Walt studied Danielle’s profile.

“You were listening to us, weren’t you?”

“I have good ears.”

“You don’t have any ears.”

“You are being mean again.”

“You invaded Lily’s dreams, didn’t you?”

“I’m not sure how I like the term
invaded
.”

“Well, did you?” Danielle studied Walt.

“I wanted to have a chat with Lily. She
can’t see me, you know…not like you.”

“You visited her dream when we were
staying at the Seahorse Motel, didn’t you?”

“I think so.” Walt looked unsure.

“You think so?”

“I’m not really sure how I did it
exactly. But after you left and went back to the motel, I had some questions. I
started thinking of you and Lily and then, well the next thing I know I’m with
Lily. But it was very confusing and someone else was there.”

“Someone else?”

“Yes. I don’t know who exactly. The next
thing I know I’m back here. I wondered if I could do it again. It was easier
the second time. You’re the one who suggested I should learn how to harness
whatever powers I might have.”

“I didn’t expect you to hop into Lily’s
dreams. What did she tell you?” Danielle asked.

“That your husband Lucas was killed in a
car accident—with his lover. And that you found out about this other woman when
your husband was killed.”

“Lily is talkative in her sleep,” she
grumbled.

“Lily is talkative awake or asleep. I’m
sorry about your husband…and the fact you had to learn about his infidelity
that way.”

“I wasn’t sure what to grieve for, my
marriage or my husband.”

“I imagine you grieved for both… But
tell me about the portrait.”

“Lucas and I met in college.”

“You went to college?”

“Yes. Why do you sound surprised?”

“I’ve known a few women who’ve attended
college, but only a few.”

“We were both marketing majors. It
turned out there weren’t lots of jobs in the field so we decided to start our own
business after graduation—which, as it turned out, proved to be very
successful.”

“And the portrait?”

“For our company’s fifth anniversary
Lucas had this bright idea to have our portrait painted and hung in the main
lobby of our office. I wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but he was so insistent
so I went along with it. About a month after the portrait went up, he was
killed in a car accident with his new assistant, who we soon discovered was his
lover.”

“It must have been painful for you,
seeing that portrait of the two of you hanging in the office.”

“It was embarrassing. And I felt funny
taking it down, after all Lucas had just died. But it all seemed so
fake
—him
and me displayed for all to see as some kind of ideal married couple, the co-founders
of our company. Although I have to say, it wasn’t nearly as large as your portrait.”

“The portraits were Angela’s idea. They
were her wedding present to me. Although, as I recall, I paid for them.”

“When I was at the museum there was a
portrait there that really reminded me of yours. Well, of your wife’s,
actually.”

“A portrait of Angela is at the museum?”

“No, it’s of another woman, an actress.
Eva Thorndike.”

“So that’s where Eva’s portrait ended
up.”

“You knew her?” Danielle asked.

“Yes, very well. We grew up together.
Her family spent the summers here. The reason the portrait reminds you of
Angela’s is because it’s by the same artist.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. I’m afraid
the artist Lucas commissioned wasn’t nearly as talented as yours.”

“Lily said you sold the company?”

“A few months after Lucas was killed I
got news of Aunt Brianna’s death, and of the inheritance. One of our
competitors made me an offer and I couldn’t see passing it up. Inheriting
Marlow House just made it easier for me.”

“When did you decide to turn it into an
inn? You know, you could live here without turning it into one.”

“A B and B,” Danielle corrected. “But I
guess that’s about the same thing as an inn. I think it would be fun. It would
give me something to do. I could meet people, and this house would make a
fantastic B and B.”

“I suppose I’m getting used to the idea,
my home being turned into an inn. It’s rather nice having people around again.”

“Walt, as much as I sincerely enjoy your
company…”

“You do?”

“Well, certainly. I must say you’ve been
one of the most affable and enjoyable spirits I’ve ever encountered. And I will
sincerely miss you when you move on—but this isn’t the place for you any more.”

“How do you know?”

“Well…because…”

“Because?” Walt raised his brow.

“I just feel there’s something beyond
this world…someplace we’re supposed to go when we die.”

 “And it will still be there when I’m
ready to go. We first need to find out who murdered me.”