The Ghost Who Wanted Revenge (Haunting Danielle Book 4) (4 page)

W
alt appeared
in Danielle’s bedroom just as she started to crawl under her sheets. Instead of the pajama bottoms and t-shirt combos she typically wore to bed, tonight she had slipped on a pink floral cotton nightgown after her shower.

“I bet you’re exhausted,” he said.

“I was, but I think I got my second wind. I can’t tell you how great that shower felt. Nothing like being put in a jail cell to make you feel grimy.” Danielle pulled the covers to her waist and scooted over, making room for Walt to sit on the bed. He accepted her silent invitation. They lay side by side, leaning back against the headboard.

Glancing to the window, they startled at the unexpected sight. Stoddard peered into the second floor window of Danielle’s bedroom, his fists furiously pounding against the windowpane in a silent tantrum.

“What is that all about?” Walt nodded to the window.

“I think I’m being haunted.”

“I thought that was my job.” Walt chuckled.

“Yes, and I like your way a lot better. Dang, am I going to have to look at that all night?”

Walt waved his hand and the curtain closed. They could no longer see Stoddard.

“I’m just glad he can’t get in here.” Danielle grimaced.

“Why do you think that is?”

Danielle pondered the question a moment. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it all night. For some reason he seems unable to pass the threshold into Marlow House, in the same way you can’t leave.”

“Cheryl’s spirit didn’t have that problem.”

“Thankfully, Stoddard’s does. I’m just trying to figure out how it all works. You know, he tried to kill us tonight. Me and Ian.”

“What?” Walt looked in horror at Danielle.

“We’re driving back from the police station, and Stoddard appears in Ian’s car—sitting in the driver’s seat with him. We pass this truck, and Stoddard tries to take control of the steering wheel and send us careening into the truck.”

“Good lord, how did you stop him?”

“I didn’t. He’s not able to harness his energy. If he was, I’d be in a lot of trouble.”

“What happens if he figures it out?”

“I don’t think it works that way…it’s not possible…” Danielle stared at the curtain-covered window.

“Why do you say that?”

“Think about it. Imagine if all murdered spirits—or any spirit with a grudge—were able to wander around freely with harnessed energy. The universe knows what it’s doing. It’s not going to allow that. Chaos would ensue.”

“What about me? I’ve harnessed my energy. I even hit Brian Henderson this morning, not to mention I smashed Renton with the bronze statue, pelted Adam and his sidekick with the croquet set, oh, and I even smacked Cheryl.”

Danielle turned to Walt. “Yes, we need to address your violent tendencies.” She grinned and then added in a serious tone, “Remember, you’re trapped in Marlow House—confined to this area until you choose to move on to another level. It’s not unusual to hear about paranormal activities in specific—limited locations. Old haunted inns, houses, even graveyards. But I suspect those spirits—the ones who’ve harnessed their energy—are limited in their abilities. Like I said, the universe knows what it’s doing.”

“What about Isabella? She hit the dognapper over the head with a rock.”

“Yes, but until she needed to help someone, she hadn’t been able to do anything like that. I suspect if she’d tried to hit an innocent with a rock—let’s say some child just walking by—she wouldn’t have been able to move it. And look at your wife.”

“Let’s not,” Walt grumbled.

“Angela apparently has some limited abilities. I believe she was responsible for my car stalling and the cellphone not working, when she got me to stop at the cemetery the first time. But she obviously can’t move objects like Isabella did when she saved us.”

“So you aren’t afraid of Stoddard’s ghost?”

“There you go again, using the G-word.”

“I told you, I don’t like it when it’s applied to me. But considering Stoddard’s behavior, the term ghost seems fitting.”

“Do you think he is still out there?” Danielle asked.

Walt waved his hand, and the curtain opened. They had their answer. Stoddard hovered persistently at the window, his fists furiously pounding against the glass.

“I’d like to talk to Stoddard. See if I can make him understand that I didn’t kill him. Maybe even figure out who did.”

“I don’t like the idea of you going out there.”

“I can’t stay in this house indefinitely. And while I don’t think he can actually do anything to me, if I have to look at THAT for the rest of my life, he just might drive me insane.”

“I would feel better if I could go outside with you.”

“Well, you can’t. But I’ll be okay. Remember, he isn’t the first snarky ghost I’ve encountered. When I was much younger, I had an especially nasty ghost try to invade my space.”

“I suppose you don’t have a choice.” Walt sighed.

“Do you know if Ian is still here?”

“He went home when you were in the shower,” Walt told her.

“Is Lily in bed?”

“Yes. But, I’m not sure if she’s asleep. Why?”

Danielle started to get out of bed. “Because I’m going to go downstairs and see if I can reason with that ghost.”

D
anielle stood
on the back porch, outside the kitchen door. She hadn’t slipped on a robe, and she was barefoot. Her dark hair, still damp from the recent shampooing, fell past her shoulders. The cotton nightgown fluttered in the evening’s breeze, and overhead a crescent moon provided a glimmer of light to the dark night sky.

Glancing around, she didn’t see Stoddard. She wondered if he was still hovering overhead by her bedroom window, making those ridiculous faces. With a sigh, she walked out into the yard and sat down on the bench, waiting.

“I am going to kill you!” Stoddard shouted when he appeared a moment later, sitting next to her on the bench.

Turning to face him, Danielle said calmly, “Good evening, Stoddard.”

Her greeting startled Stoddard, who jumped up and stared down at her. “You really can see me!”

“I can hear you too.” Danielle smiled sweetly. “And it’s getting awful annoying, if you ask me.”

“If you hurt Darlene—”

“I didn’t shoot you, and I have no intention of hurting your wife, in spite of what you two did to Lily.”

“Darlene had nothing to do with that!” he shouted in outrage.

“Oh no?” Cocking her head slightly she lifted her brows and stared into Stoddard’s face, challenging him to disagree.

“She knew nothing about it. She was innocent. She thought that was Isabella.”

“So, you’re saying it was Isabella she wanted to smother with a pillow? Nice wife you have there.”

“What…what are you talking about?” Stoddard shifted nervously from one foot to another.

“Oh sit down, and talk to me like a respectable ghost. Your wiggling all over the place is almost as annoying as the way you keep peeking in my window. Charming, you die only to spend your eternity as a peeping Tom.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. Darlene would never hurt anyone,” Stoddard grumbled as he sat back down on the bench.

“Oh stop lying. This isn’t the end of the road for you. You’ve another place to go. Maybe you can temporarily avoid going, but eventually you’ll have to move on. If you want to settle into a cooler climate, I suggest you stop your lies.

“Lily overheard you and your wife talking. When she was in her coma, her spirit was free—in the same way yours is now. She heard Darlene tell you to smother her with a pillow, to get rid of her. Of course, at the time she thought you were talking about Isabella. She didn’t realize you both knew it was Lily in that room, not your niece.”

“Is that why you killed me?”

“I didn’t kill you. Hey, when it’s my time to check out, I really don’t want to settle in Flame Flats. Or wherever those who’ve made the naughty list end up. If I was you, I’d be a little more concerned about your hereafter.”

“I don’t believe you. I saw you. You shot me—you even laughed about it. You, woman, will be going to hell. Maybe I can’t send you there, but you will get there.”

“Are you saying you saw my face?”

“Of course not, you wore that ski mask.”

“A ski mask? The person who shot you was wearing a ski mask? Then why assume it was me?”

“She carried a purse, just like your red one.”

“You noticed my purse?” Danielle frowned.

“She also wore her brown hair in a braid, like yours.”

“You remember my purse?”

“So? I have an excellent memory.”

“Maybe Darlene shot you. She and I are about the same size, I bet she’s the one who stands to inherit your money. She could have easily been wearing a wig.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I would recognize my own wife. I looked into your brown eyes when you shot me. My wife has blue eyes.”

“Well, whoever the shooter was, it wasn’t me. I don’t go around killing people—especially when I think that person is going to jail to pay for his crimes.”

“That’s just it; you believed my attorneys would get me off.”

“In your dreams,” Danielle snorted. “There is no way you wouldn’t have had to serve some time. And considering your former lifestyle, even six months would have been torturous for you.”

“You’re just saying all this because you want me to go away. But I’m not going. If I have to stay by your side every minute for the rest of your life, just to repay you for what you took from me, I will.”

“Did the woman who shot you say she was me?”

“You didn’t come out and say your name, but you did tell me you were repaying me for what I did to your friend and for trying to frame you for Isabella’s murder.”

“Which were especially nasty things for you to do; however, not me. Think about it a moment. Don’t you find it a trifle odd that I am having this conversation with you? Wouldn’t you expect a normal woman to—well—let’s say—run away hysterically if she thought a dead man—especially one she supposedly killed—started popping up in unexpected places like jail cells, cars and at the window of her bedroom? Not to mention the fact you tried to get Ian and me into a car accident. And trust me, had that little move worked and you killed us both, you’d be checking into Hades already.”

“I don’t know what to make of that. No one else seems to be able to see or hear me.”

“That’s just it. I can see ghosts. I’ve been able to since I was a child. That’s how I happened to find out what you did to Lily. By the way, I met your niece—after she died. My point being, since I’m rather familiar with how all this afterlife stuff works—well, kinda sorta—I would be the last person to risk going to jail to plot anyone’s murder. Especially yours.”

“Why do you say especially mine?” He frowned.

“Because you, Stoddard Gusarov, simply are not worth the trouble. What you did to Lily—what you did to your niece—was inexcusable.”

“I didn’t hurt my niece,” he argued.

“You don’t think hiding her body, letting her friends think she just took off, wasn’t hurtful?”

Stoddard abruptly stood up. “This only proves you are the killer.”

“How do you figure that?” Danielle frowned.

“Because you must have known about the baby. You knew how important it was to me—to finally be a father. But now I will never be able to hold my son.”

“Darlene is pregnant?” Danielle remembered Adam had once mentioned something about Stoddard’s wife being pregnant, yet later heard that wasn’t true. Or had it been? “And it’s a boy?”

“I don’t know if it’s a son. It may be a daughter, which is another way you hurt me. I no longer have the opportunity to try for a second child if the baby is a girl. Then not only do I never get to hold my child, I never get my son. Maybe you win now, but mark my words, you will pay for what you did to me! You might think you’ve won, but you haven’t!”

Stoddard disappeared, leaving Danielle alone in the back yard of Marlow House.

M
orning’s sea
breeze sent the bedroom curtains fluttering inward. Before going to bed the night before, Joe Morelli had opened the windows, to take full advantage of the beachfront rental. He enjoyed the soothing serenade of the ocean breakers. Awake for almost thirty minutes, only the promise of morning coffee could coax him from bed.

Rolling off the mattress, he tossed the sheets aside. Standing up, he stretched lazily, walked to the window, and looked outside. There was no one on the beach—at least not that he could see.

Wearing just his boxers, he turned from the window and made his way to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. When he got there, he flipped on the radio to listen to some music. As he filled the glass pot with water, the newsbreak began. Joe half listened to the news, yet froze when the newscaster mentioned a familiar name.

“Marlow House Bed and Breakfast owner, Danielle Boatman has been released on bail after her arrest for the murder of longtime Frederickport resident, Stoddard Gusarov…”

Joe turned abruptly, shut off the water, and faced the radio.

“…According to an unidentified source, Stoddard Gusarov named Boatman as his killer just moments before his death…”

“
W
hat are you doing here
?” Chief MacDonald asked Joe Morelli when the young sergeant walked into the break room at the police station, thirty minutes later. “I thought you were on vacation for the rest of the week.”

“I imagine he heard about Boatman,” Brian said, following Joe into the break room.

“I didn’t go out of town,” Joe said as he grabbed a mug from the cupboard and filled it with coffee. “I rented a beach house on the south side.”

“And this is exactly why you need to leave town for vacation,” MacDonald said.

Brian grabbed himself a cup of coffee. He and Joe took a seat at the table with the chief.

“What’s going on with Danielle?” Joe asked. “I turned on the radio this morning and heard she’d been arrested for Stoddard’s murder. Stoddard is dead?”

“As a doornail,” Brian said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“They said he identified Danielle as his killer—according to an unidentified source. But that can’t be true.” Joe shook his head.

“Yes it can,” Brian said. “Not sure who the unidentified source is, although I suspect it is Darlene.”

“Darlene? You’re not telling me you’ve arrested Danielle because of Darlene’s account. She’d be my top suspect, considering what she’s likely to inherit.”

“I said Darlene was probably the unidentified source, not that she was the only one to hear Stoddard say Danielle Boatman shot him,” Brian explained.

“Who else heard?” Joe asked.

The chief tipped his cup toward Brian and said, “He did.”

“Stoddard told you Danielle shot him?” Joe asked incredulously.

“I’m not sure I believe it either—oh, not that Brian didn’t hear Stoddard accuse Boatman, but I’m not sure Stoddard knew what he was talking about,” the chief said.

“You’re just like Joe; you have a soft spot for that girl.” Brian shook his head. “I keep telling you both, she is nothing but trouble.”

The chief shrugged and took another sip of coffee.

“But you arrested her?” Joe asked the chief.

“I didn’t have a choice. Not only did Stoddard tell Brian she was the shooter, we found the murder weapon in her car. Doesn’t look good for her,” MacDonald explained.

“Were her fingerprints on it?” Joe asked.

“No, the gun had been wiped clean. But I suspect she was getting ready to dump it,” Brian explained. “The serial numbers had been removed. Of course, she insists she didn’t own a gun, claimed she didn’t even know how to shoot one.”

“I don’t think she did,” Joe said.

“Why do you say that?” the chief asked.

“Once, when we went out, we got on the topic of guns. She told me she had never shot one, and was a little afraid of them.”

“She obviously got over her fear,” Brian snorted.

“Did she have gun shot residue on her hands?” Joe asked.

“No, but we figured she wore gloves,” Brian said.

“Did you find any gloves?”

“No.”

“Tell me what happened. Start at the beginning,” Joe urged.

Brian set his mug on the table. “Yesterday morning I stopped in the diner to have breakfast, and I ran into Darlene Gusarov in the parking lot, cursing up a storm. She’s driving Stoddard’s little T-Bird and had just locked the keys in the car. I figured I could probably get the key out for her—not too hard on those old cars. Of course, I needed a piece of wire. But Darlene’s paranoid about scratching the car, says Stoddard will kill her. Tells me she already tried calling him to see if he’d bring down the extra set of keys, but he wasn’t answering the phone. One thing leads to another, and I end up driving her home to pick up her extra set of car keys.”

“And you found Stoddard?” Joe asked.

“Technically, Darlene found him first. I was waiting in the car while she ran up to the house to get her extra set of keys. The minute she went in the door, she started screaming bloody murder. When I got up to the house, he was barely hanging on, been shot twice—once in the gut and once in the knee cap.”

“I can’t believe Danielle would do something like that.” Joe shook his head in denial.

“While waiting for the paramedics to arrive, I asked Stoddard who had shot him. He said Danielle Boatman. I admit, at first I thought he was confused. According to Stoddard, he saw her—heard her. In fact, she threatened to kill Darlene too, for what they’d done to Lily and for trying to convince us she had murdered Isabella.”

“I find this impossible to believe.” Joe felt ill.

“I’m having a hard time believing it too,” the chief said. “Danielle says someone is trying to frame her.”

“Right,” Brian scoffed. “Pretty good frame up when you get the victim to play along.”

“Wait a minute…you said this happened yesterday morning?” Joe frowned.

“Yes. Stoddard was shot sometime between 7:15 and 8:30 yesterday morning,” the chief explained.

“I got there a little after 8:30 and Chuck Christiansen—Stoddard’s right hand man—claims to have talked to Stoddard on the telephone at seven that morning—the call lasted about fifteen minutes, when Stoddard said he had to go because someone was there. The phone records check out.”

“But that is impossible. Danielle couldn’t have killed Stoddard!” Joe said excitedly.

“Why is that?” Brian frowned.

“Because I saw Danielle yesterday morning!” Joe jumped to his feet and started pacing the small room. “Chief, she’s right, someone is trying to frame her!”

“What are you talking about?” Brian asked.

“I’ve been staying at a beach house on the south side of town. Yesterday morning I heard someone pounding on the neighbor’s door, I looked out the window. It was Danielle. It was 7:00 a.m. I know, because I looked at the clock.”

“Was the rental on Sea Cliff Drive?” the chief asked.

“Yeah, how did you know that?” Joe asked.

“Because Danielle claims to have been on Sea Cliff Drive the time of the murder. Said she was there to look at a piano someone was selling.”

“She was there for about an hour. I got the feeling she was waiting for someone. She made a couple calls and finally went to the back of the house and sat on the porch swing. I thought the whole thing was a little odd.”

“Danielle didn’t mention seeing you,” Brian said.

“No, she wouldn’t have. I stayed in the house.”

“How can you be sure it was her?” Brian asked.

“Well…I…” Joe shuffled his feet in embarrassment. “I was watching her through the binoculars.”

The chief raised his brows. “Binoculars?”

“But what about the guy who works for the disposal company saying they saw someone matching Danielle’s description leaving the house—in the same model car she drives?” Brian asked.

“The car!” Joe combed his fingers through his hair. “There was a red car that went down the street when Danielle was sitting on the back swing. She wouldn’t have seen it. It looked like hers, in fact I wondered for a moment if someone had taken off in her new car. It stopped a moment by hers, before taking off again.”

“Did you see who was driving the other car?” the chief asked.

“No.” Joe shook his head.

“Did you see them put anything in Boatman’s car?” Brian asked.

“You mean like the murder weapon? No. But they could have.”

The chief stood up, “Are you positive this was yesterday?”

“Of course. Just because I decided to spend a few days alone doesn’t mean I’m drinking alone and getting my days confused!”

“Joe, I think we need to have a little talk with the DA and judge. See about getting the charges dropped against Danielle.”

“I wonder if that will be possible,” Brian murmured.

“What do you mean? I saw her. If he was killed during that timeframe then she’s innocent.”

“And considering your history with Danielle, you don’t think the DA or judge might question your motives for coming forward?”

“Are you suggesting I’m not telling the truth?” Joe asked angrily.

“Of course not,” Brian insisted. “But if I was the DA and the victim claimed to know the killer—and then the ex-boyfriend of the killer came forward with a story—”

“I was never Danielle’s boyfriend. We only went out a couple times.”

“No, but we all know you wanted to be,” Brian retorted.

“And we all know the reason Danielle is no longer interested—I helped arrest her for Cheryl’s murder.”

“And what a perfect way to ingratiate yourself to her. Be the star witness to exonerate her in what appears to be a slam dunk case,” Brian said.

“Enough!” the chief interrupted. “If Joe had come into this office yesterday morning, before we filed charges on Danielle, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Brian, I can’t believe you’d doubt Joe’s word.”

“I never said I doubted him.”

“It didn’t sound like that to me,” Joe grumbled.

“I was just playing the devil’s advocate,” Brian insisted.

“One thing I am fairly confident about,” the chief said. “Danielle Boatman is innocent, and someone is trying to frame her for Stoddard’s murder. Whoever did this went to a lot of trouble to implicate Danielle. Darlene is looking like a prime suspect.”

“She seemed sincerely upset at Stoddard’s death,” Brian said. “And you don’t think Stoddard would recognize his own wife?”

“I would suspect she had an accomplice,” the chief said.

“Why do you think she’s involved at all?” Joe asked.

“For one reason, she’s the one who brought Brian to the house when she found her husband,” the chief said.

“But how would she have known…” Joe paused a moment considering his question. He turned to Brian and said, “That’s right. You said you were having breakfast at the diner—which you do every morning. Darlene knew right where to find you.”