The Ghost of Valentine Past (22 page)

“
I
know
why you were really in Frederickport,” Adam told Arlene. The two sat on the porch swing in front of Marlow House.

“The entire weekend was a disaster,” Arlene groaned.

“Sorry. I understand the private detective you hired has disappeared.”

“Yeah, and they think he's the one who killed Morris.”

“Why do they think that?” Adam asked.

“Because…well…for one thing…I saw him in Marlow House around the time of the murder.” Arlene then went on to explain her encounter with Mitcham prior to the murder, leaving out the part about their brief affair and his parting kiss.

“There's also something else,” Arlene confided. “Something I haven't told the police yet.”

“There's more?”

Arlene nervously licked her lips. “Logan told me the only way we would ever bring Earthbound Spirits down was if we got more people to start looking into their criminal behavior.”

“I can understand that.”

“He told me we needed a high profile case—that's when he suggested I call Isabella's father, and tell her Morris had her killed.”

“Isabella died of natural causes.”

Arlene shook her head. “According to Logan, he had evidence proving Morris had her murdered.”

“If that was true, why didn't this Logan guy just go to the police himself?”

“Because the coroner's office was in on it. And Isabella's father has money. He'd be able to get the right people to listen to him.”

“So, what did you do?”

“I called Mr. Wayne several times, tried to get him to look into it.”

“Do you believe your brother killed Isabella?”

“No!” Arlene shook her head adamantly. “Cleve refused to kill her, that's what Logan told me! I could never have called Mr. Wayne had I thought my brother was responsible. I…I don't know what I would've done.”

“Did you tell Wayne who you were?”

Arlene shook her head. “No. I made up a story about how I was a member of the group, and afraid. Logan thought Mr. Wayne would believe my story if he visited a website we frequented—one that discusses some of the things Morris' group has done to hurt other families. I kept forgetting to tell him about the website.” Arlene shrugged. “But I don't think it really mattered. I got the feeling he believed me.”

O
verhead
, the dark clouds threatened to bring another day of rain to Frederickport, Oregon. After parking her car in front of the beach house, Carol Barns grabbed her purse from the passenger seat and prayed she would make it to the front door before the rain started falling. Just as she reached the gate, she noticed the mailbox was open, and it wasn't empty.

“Someone forgot to get the mail yesterday,” Carol muttered, as she snatched the envelopes from the box.

“Morning Carol,” Will Wayne greeted when the nurse came through the front door a few minutes later. He sat on a recliner, remote in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, as he watched television.

“How did Karen do last night?” Carol walked over to Will.

“She finally had a good night.”

Carol handed Will a stack of mail. He frowned and asked, “What's this?”

“No one brought in the mail yesterday.”

Setting his coffee cup down, he took the envelopes from her. “Now that I think about it, you're right.” Will chuckled. “Wondered what you were doing bringing in mail on a Sunday.”

Slipping her purse's strap from her shoulder, she hung it on the coat rack. After removing her jacket, she hung it with her purse. “Is Karen up?”

“Yes. Connie's in her room with her.” Wayne set the remote on the table with the coffee cup and began flipping through the stack of mail. Most of the envelopes appeared to be junk mail, except for one enveloped addressed to him. There was no return address.

Now alone in the living room, Will tossed the junk mail onto the end table. Tearing open the envelope addressed to him, he found a letter inside—not handwritten, but printed, as was its envelope. He began to read.

“Will Wayne, I know you paid to have Peter Morris killed for what he did to your daughter. If you want me to keep your secret, you will now have to pay me…”

Crumpling the letter in his hands, Will took a deep breath. After sitting there a moment in thoughtful silence, he uncrumpled the sheet of paper and continued reading. It told how much money the blackmailer expected and where and how to deliver the funds.

“
I
'm
sorry I ruined your Valentine's Day,” Kelly told Lily. The two women sat together at Pier Cafe, while Ian was back at the house reviewing the edits on the Emma Jackson story.

“Aww, it's all right.” Lily picked up her cup of hot chocolate and took a sip, leaving behind a faint whipped cream mustache. “I don't blame you not wanting to go back to your place as long as Mitcham is on the loose.”

“I suppose I could have gone back to my friend's in Astoria.” Looking Lily in the eyes, Kelly tapped her upper lip. Lily smiled and then picked up a napkin, wiping off the whipped cream.

“Like I said, it's fine. I had a good time last night.”

Kelly chuckled. “Yeah, watching movies with your boyfriend and his little sister. What a great way to spend your first Valentine's Day together.”

Lily smiled and took another sip of her hot cocoa.

“But I'll confess, Lily. I really did not want to go back to Astoria. I felt safer staying with my big brother. Does that sound silly?”

“Given the situation, no.”

“How do you feel about staying at Marlow House after the murder?”

Lily shrugged. “I'll feel much better when they catch the guy. But I feel pretty safe over there.”

“I don't know.” Kelly shook her head. “Things Ian has told me about Marlow House, makes me wonder if it is cursed.”

Lily laughed. “Cursed? Why would you say that?”
Haunted maybe, but not cursed.

“Ian told me about the home invasion. Danielle and Joe could have both been killed.”

“True, but they weren't.”

Kelly toyed with the rim of her water glass, glancing from it to Lily. “Umm…what's the deal with Joe and Danielle?”

“The deal? What do you mean?”

“I know they used to date.”

“They went out a few times, after we first moved here. But nothing came of it. Mostly because Joe thought she murdered her cousin.”

“But they worked through that, didn't they? I mean, they seem to be friends now. She invited him to her Christmas party.”

Lily studied Kelly for a moment. “Why all the questions?”

Nibbling her lower lip, Kelly looked up at Lily. “You have to admit, he's awful cute.”

“When I first met him, I thought he was pretty hot. He has that sexy Italian thing going for him. But…”

“But what?”

Picking a spoon up from her napkin, Lily absently stirred her cocoa. “Oh, Joe is nice enough. He just never really saw Danielle.”

Kelly frowned. “What's that mean?”

“I guess it just means Joe was never right for Danielle, that's all.”

“She seems pretty close with Chris. Are they together? I asked my brother, and he told me to ask Danielle.”

“Sounds like your brother. Hmm…are they together? I get the idea they're dancing around the possibility. Now he's a hottie!”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Kelly sipped her water.

“You suppose? Lord, I'm always saying that boy could be an underwear model.”

Kelly frowned. “Is he cuter than my brother?”

Lily smiled. “Not to me.”

The server brought their burgers and when she left the table, Lily asked, “So what's your deal.
You
interested in Sergeant Morelli?”

“Well, I was, until he hauled me down to the police station a second time.”

“Technically speaking, it was the chief who had you come in for questioning.”

“But still, it was Joe who interviewed me. And I hated when he called me
Ms. Bartley
.”

Lily grinned. “That is your name.”

“It's just so hard to find a good guy.” Kelly sighed.

The café door opened and in walked Heather Donovan. Lily noticed her immediately, while Kelly continued to stare dreamily into space, her thoughts occupied elsewhere.

“Heather looks like she slept in her clothes,” Lily murmured under her breath.

“I saw your car out front,” Heather said when she reached them. Without being asked, she sat down in one of the empty chairs at their table.

“So what did you do for Valentine's Day?” Lily asked. “Danielle mentioned you didn't stay at Marlow House last night.”

“It'll be nice to move back to my own house where people aren't keeping tabs on every move I make,” Heather snapped, grabbing a menu from the middle of the table.

“Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it,” Lily countered. “Just wondered if you did something fun.”

“Do I look like I've been having fun?” Heather asked.

“Wow, don't bite my head off.”

Heather let out a sigh. “I'm sorry, Lily. I've just had a really crappy week.”

“This has been pretty crappy all around,” Lily agreed. “You want to talk about it?”

“You know that guy who was in the paper this morning? The one they call a person of interest in Peter Morris' death?”

Lily and Kelly exchanged glances, before Lily said, “Yeah, the private investigator.”

“He was my freaking private investigator!” Heather seethed.

“You hired Mitch?” Kelly asked.

Heather frowned at Kelly. “Mitch? You knew him?”

“Well, I knew him as Mitch. He lives in the condo below mine.”

“Really?” Heather narrowed her eyes. “Do the police know?”

“Sure they know,” Lily answered for Kelly. “If they're looking for him, don't you think they know where he lives?”

Heather stared at Kelly. “Doesn't mean the police know you lived in the same building as him.”

“They know,” Kelly said quietly. “That's why I'm staying at my brothers. I don't want to go home until they find him.”

“So you knew him?” Before Kelly could answer, Heather said, “I guess that's a silly question since you called him Mitch. So, were you two friends, or something? Why are you afraid to go back to your place? Is he dangerous? The paper didn't say anything about him being dangerous.”

“No, I didn't know him very well. I didn't even know he was a private detective, or that his last name was Mitcham.”

“Why did you hire him?” Lily asked.

“To look into that issue with Presley House and Peter Morris.”

“What did Peter Morris have to do with Presley House?” Lily asked.

“I guess I never told you. Earthbound Spirits is the new owner of the property. They're the ones who got their hands on it after my mother failed to pay the property tax.”

“No kidding? Why didn't you ever say anything to Ian about it? You know he's researching Earthbound Spirits for illegal activities,” Lily asked.

“It wouldn't have helped Ian's story, anyway. As it turned out, everything was handled legally. Not really what I wanted to hear. But what can I do about it now?”

“Even if everything was handled legally, I can see where you'd still be pissed. Pretty easy to hold a grudge against someone who just walked in and took advantage of the situation when you were obviously vulnerable,” Kelly noted.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Heather snapped.

Kelly shrugged. “Nothing. I mean…well…that's just what Peter Morris did best, take advantage of vulnerable people for his own profit.”

“Well, I suppose the joke's on him.” Heather chuckled.

“Why, because he's dead?” Lily asked.

“No…although that way too.” Heather laughed. “What I meant was, I guess the joke is on Earthbound Spirits. You see, according to the insurance company, I was no longer the owner of the Presley Property when it burned down, something neither of us were aware of at the time. So, they aren't obligated to pay the claim. And while Earthbound spirits got a great deal for a house on the property—the bare land is worth less than what they paid for it. Not to mention, the site still needs to be cleaned after the fire. From what I understand, the current property owner is obligated to do that, and since they never purchased home owner's insurance for it, they're basically screwed.”

P
erched
atop a stack of boulders along the Oregon shoreline, Mitch glanced up at the gray clouds. They blocked the afternoon sun and promised rain. Fortunately, the inclement weather detoured visitors to the beach, which he hoped would allow him time to properly dispose of the body.

The fact that it wasn't raining and his jacket was dry made it not just bearable to be outside on a dreary February afternoon; it made it quite comfortable. Mitch rarely got cold, and he counted that as a blessing, especially since he had been hiding out along the beach for what seemed like an eternity, trying to figure out how to get rid of the body.

He loathed double crossers; ignoring the fact that Peter Morris would probably have good cause to accuse him of that infraction. However, Mitch really didn't care what Peter Morris thought of him. Morris deserved whatever he got.

Standing up, he dusted off his slacks and made his way down the rocky mound. The body was not far away, tucked safely under some shrubbery. His first thought was to drag it to the ocean and let the sea take care of things, but he was afraid it would simply wash up on shore in a few days.

When he reached the body, he stared at the bullet hole in the man's gut.

“That must have hurt,” he murmured, and then he looked at the man's eyes, which gazed vacantly up to the gray sky.

Staring down at the man in fascination, Mitch tilted his head first to the right and then the left, as if a slight change in angle would make some significant difference in what he was seeing.

“How did you get yourself in this mess?” Mitch asked the corpse. He then laughed and said, “Oh I remember, you were being greedy!”

Mitch leaned down to the body, preparing to grab the man by his ankles, when he paused. “Maybe if I fill your pocket with rocks. You think that might keep you in the water?”

The corpse remained silent. Mitch stood up and looked around, wondering where he might find rocks small enough to stuff into the man's pockets and down his pants. Although, he wasn't sure that would weight the body down sufficiently to keep it in the ocean.

It was then he heard it—voices. Mitch was no longer alone on the beach. Without a second thought, he raced for cover, seeking refuge amongst the shrubbery. Peering out from his hiding place, he spied the people attached to the voices: two teenage girls.

Smiling, Mitch thought,
I can easily take care of them. I already have one body to dispose of, what's two more?

He watched and waited as the two unsuspecting girls walked toward the corpse, still hidden from their view. They chatted with each other, laughing and giggling, each oblivious to what lay just a few yards away.

Engrossed in their teenage banter, neither girl was aware of Mitch, who hunkered down behind a bush they had just walked by. His plan was to wait until they stumbled upon the corpse before jumping from his hiding place and taking them both down. It would be easy. After all, he doubted either one weighed more than 90 pounds, and their surprise at finding a body along the beach would make it even more difficult for them to react to the situation in a manner that might actually save their lives.

The little blonde saw it first. Her scream jolted even Mitch. The next moment, the other girl joined in and started screaming, Mitch slunk out from his hiding place. They had no idea he was right behind them as they looked down at the dead man, whose blank eyes stared into their terrified faces.

C
hris stood
at his kitchen counter, unloading groceries. Just as he set a gallon of milk in the refrigerator, he heard pounding on his back sliding door—pounding and shouting. Shutting the refrigerator, he walked to the door. Standing just outside were two teenage girls who looked as if someone wielding a chainsaw was on their heels.

Quickly he unlocked the door. The moment he did, the two girls practically flew inside, both shouting hysterically. It took him several minutes before he could calm them down enough, to learn what had happened.

“He's dead!” the petite blonde sobbed. “And he looked right at me!”

“Who's dead?” Chris asked.

“We found a dead body on the beach. It's all bloated and gross and his eyes are open!” the other girl told him.

“I want you both to sit down,” Chris ordered. He immediately locked his door and picked up his cellphone. A moment later, he had the Frederickport Police Department on the line.

When he was off the phone, he looked at the girls. “The police want you to wait with me, until they get here. Did you see anyone near the body, or on the beach?”

Both girls shook their heads. “Just the dead guy,” the blonde said.

“Maybe you'd better call your parents, let them know what's going on, where you are. By the way, my name is Chris Johnson.”

W
hen Chris opened
his door ten minutes later, Brian Henderson was on his front porch.

“What's this about a dead body?” Brian asked.

Chris looked over Brian's shoulder. He didn't see any other officers.

“You came alone? Don't you need the coroner or something?”

“I was in the neighborhood, so I told them I'd take the call. Let's see what we really have. You told the dispatcher you didn't see anything, some girls did?”

Chris opened his door wider. He stepped to one side, giving Brian room to enter.

“The girls are inside. They showed up at my back door, screaming their heads off. Claimed they found a body on the beach.”

Brian entered the house, first wiping his feet on the matt. He glanced around. “So this is your new place?”

“I just moved in yesterday.”

“Nice. Right on the beach too. Plus, not too far from Marlow House.”

Chris ignored Brian's comment and led him to the girls.

Without waiting for the rest of the officers to show up, Brian had the girls lead them to the spot where they claimed to have found the dead man. Chris trailed along. When they got a few hundred yards from the spot, the girls stopped and pointed in the direction of the body. They refused to budge another foot.

Chris saw the man hiding in the bushes. He was about to shout out to Brian when something stopped him. It was the way the man's hand moved through the foliage. Instead of saying anything, Chris ignored the man lurking nearby and walked with Brian to where the body lay.

Hands on hips, Brian looked down at the corpse and let out a sigh. “If I'm not mistaken, that's our missing private detective. Sure looks like him.”

“Logan Mitcham?”

Brian pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and kneeled by the body. Covering his hand with the handkerchief, he gingerly removed the man's wallet.

“I'm going to kill you for bringing them here!” Chris heard a male voice shout. He turned and watched as the man from the bushes jumped from his hiding place and lunged at the teenagers. Neither girl was aware of his presence and continued to whisper amongst themselves.

When the girls ignored him, he turned his attention to Brian and Chris. “What are you doing? Put that wallet back! It doesn't belong to you!” the man wailed.

After opening the wallet and looking over the dead man's identification, Brian stood up. “It's Mitcham all right. Looks like he's been dead a while. But the coroner will be able to tell us more.”

“Can we go now?” One of the girls called out. She held a cellphone in her hand. “My mother just texted me. They just parked by Mr. Johnson's house.”

“I'd like to get both of your statements first.” Brian looked at Chris. “Would you wait here with the body, make sure no one disturbs it? I want to walk the girls back, and the rest of my people should be pulling up around now.”

Chris was about to answer when he paused a moment, watching in fascination as the man from the bushes stood nose to nose with Officer Henderson. The man scrunched his features into an ugly scowl and shouted, “I said, put that wallet back!”

“Well?” Brian asked impatiently, waiting for Chris' response.

“Sure,” Chris waived his hand toward his house. “I'll wait here. Feel free to use my kitchen table if you need someplace to take the girls' statement.”

“Thanks.” Brian turned from Chris.

“What is wrong with these people?” The man shouted.

Chris silently watched Brian and the girls head back to his house. When they were out of earshot, he looked at the ranting man and said, “You're Logan Mitcham.”

Mitch startled and swung around to faced Chris.

“You can see me,” Mitch said.

“Yes.”

“Why were they ignoring me? They acted like they couldn't even see me.”

“Because they can't,” Chris explained.

“Don't be ridiculous,” Mitch snapped. Impatiently, he combed his fingers through his shortly cropped hair.

Chris wandered over to the body and looked down. “Do you know who that is?”

Angrily walking to Chris, Mitch looked down at the body.

“I just know it's his fault I'm in this mess.”

“So, who is he?” Chris asked again.

A flicker of confusion crossed Mitch's face. “I'm not really sure.”

“Doesn't his face look a little familiar?”

Mitch shook his head.

“Why did you kill Peter Morris?” Chris asked.

Mitch's face broke out into an evil smile. His eyes narrowed and he looked over at Chris. “So, you know about that?”

“Sure.”

“I could kill you right now, before that cop comes back.”

“I'm not the only one who knows,” Chris told him. “All the cops know you slit Morris' throat. You left your fingerprint on Marlow House's front gate.”

“Big deal. I could have left my fingerprint there any time.”

“Oh, did I mention it was a bloody fingerprint? Morris' blood.”

“Doesn't prove anything. Everyone wanted him dead. If anyone knows that, I do.”

“I wouldn't worry too much about being arrested for Morris' murder.”

Mitch eyed Chris suspiciously. “Why do you say that?”

Chris nodded down to the corpse. “Because, that's you.”

Thunderstruck, Mitch stared down at his corpse.

“Why don't you tell me who killed you?”

Mitch vanished.

“
W
hat do
you mean you left Glandon with the body,” Joe hissed under his breath. He stood with Brian in the front entry of Chris' beach house while another officer took statements from the teenage girls.

“Johnson, not Glandon,” the chief reminded. He had just walked up behind Joe and caught his comment.

“What's the problem?” Brian asked. “I didn't want to leave the body unattended, and I needed to get a statement from the girls. They told me their folks were here to pick them up, and I was afraid they'd just take off and not wait. Both of them are pretty shaken.”

“Are you implying Chris had something to do with Mitcham's murder?” the chief asked.