The Ghost from the Sea (4 page)

Adam chuckled. “Floating nightclubs.”

“Exactly,” Marie nodded. “According to my father, Walt Marlow would occasionally host private parties aboard his yacht, where he would supply the liquor. But mostly he would use the Eva Aphrodite to ferry his clients out to the larger ships that would come down from Canada.”

“When it sunk, was that what it was doing, taking passengers out to the international waters to meet up with a booze ship?” Danielle asked.

“According to my father, yes.”

“Wouldn't the local museum have information on this?” Lily asked.

“Hardly,” Marie snorted. “They have a lot on the Marlow Shipping line, but not much about the grandson. And if you ask me, Walt Marlow was a more colorful character.”

“He didn't have such a terrific end,” Adam reminded as he wiped his sticky hands off on a napkin.

“So, what all did your father tell you about Walt's yacht going down?” Danielle asked.

“I just remember my father saying it was a bad time for Walt. The passengers were friends of his, quite prominent members of the community. And then his best friend and business partner stole all that money and just took off.”

“What best friend and business partner?” Danielle asked.

“Oh, I didn't tell you about that?” Marie asked.

A
previous customer
had abandoned the morning newspaper on the empty chair next to Kurt Jefferson. He didn't notice it until after the waitress had taken his lunch order. Alone at the diner's table, he picked up the newspaper and skimmed through it while waiting for his food. The photograph accompanying the front-page article caught his eye. Something about it looked familiar. Curious, he read the paper.

Finishing the article, he gripped the edges of the newspaper, crushing it. Taking a deep breath, he re-read the article.
This is impossible
, he told himself. After reading the article two more times, he set the newspaper on the tabletop, picked up his cellphone, and made a call.

“Hey,” came the female voice on the other end of the line.

“Do you know anything about that wreckage that washed up in Frederickport?” he asked.

“Yes, I was just getting ready to call you,” she told him.

“This is bizarre. According to the article, the boat's name is Eva Aphrodite. And I swear, looking at this picture, it could almost be the same one.”

“I think it is,” she told him.

“That's impossible. That boat wasn't going anywhere.”

“I saw it, Kurt. I was down at the beach yesterday morning. Hell, I think half of Frederickport was down there. I'm sure it's the same one.”

“How would you know? You never saw it.”

“It's just a gut feeling I have. And didn't you just say it looked like it could be the same one?” she asked.

“I just think it's a bizarre coincidence,” he told her. “Because of the name.”

“I was going to call you, because I wanted you to look at the photograph, see what you thought. I couldn't really go by the wreckage, since I never actually saw it.”

“Even if it has the same name, how could you even jump to that conclusion it's the same boat—especially if, as you say, you never saw the other one.”

“Like I said, a gut feeling.”

With a snort he said, “I know all about your gut feelings.”

“Hey, you called me about it,” she reminded.

“I admit, it looks like it could be the same boat, and the name…well that's just freaking bizarre. But I don't see how it's even possible.”

“Stranger things have happened, Kurt.”

“You certainly don't seem upset. I figured you'd be upset, especially if you think it could be the same boat—which I'm not convinced it is. I think it's just some freaking coincidence.”

“Why should I be upset?”

“Considering all the trouble we went to.”

“If you read the article, I guess you know they found the bodies. Or, what was left of them.”

“I have to admit—that does make it look like it could be the same boat.”

“I think it is,” she said calmly.

“Let's assume you're right. How did it get to Frederickport?”

“I think it's what we did,” she said.

“Now you're just being crazy.”

“Doesn't mean I'm not right.”

D
anielle found
Walt in the attic when she returned home from Marie's house. She had dropped Lily off at Ian's before pulling into the driveway, just minutes earlier.

“Why didn't you tell me?” she asked.

He turned from the spotting scope and looked at her. “Tell you what?”

“That the boat was yours.”

With a sigh, Walt walked to the sofa and sat down. He looked over at Danielle. “Where were you this morning?”

“Marie's house. She called, wanted to talk to me about the wreckage.”

With a wave of his hand, Walt summons a lit cigar. He took a drag and then said, “I tend to forget what a busy body Little Marie grew up to be.”

Danielle walked to the sofa and sat next to Walt. With a concerned frown she asked, “Why wouldn't you tell me? What's the big secret?”

Walt shrugged. “It was just a time in my life I'd rather forget.”

“Were they your friends?” Danielle asked. “Or customers?”

Walt cocked his brow and studied Danielle. “So she told you about that too.”

“That you used your boat to ferry people out to the booze ships? Yeah.”

“People needed a little fun after all that had happened.” Walt puffed on his cigar.

“What do you mean, what had happened?”

“I always thought it ironic federal prohibition went into effect a year after the war ended—and just months after people stopped dying from influenza. If anyone needed a drink, this country did. Of course, Oregon went dry a few years before the rest of the country. I think I was around sixteen at the time.”

“That's right, World War One…
the war to end all wars
,” Danielle quipped.

Walt let out a sardonic chuckle. “According to your
History Channel
I've been watching, that obviously didn't work out.”

“Were you in the war?” Danielle silently waited for his answer. She wondered why they had never discussed this before.

“Eva died in April, a couple weeks after the country entered the war,” Walt explained. “1917. I was determined to enlist. Looking back, it had nothing to do about being patriotic.”

“Your heart was broken, losing Eva,” she whispered.

Walt smiled softly. “I suppose I was. Of course, Grandfather wouldn't hear of it. Insisted he needed me to help him with the shipping company, especially with the war going on and new demands placed on the family business.”

“Didn't they have the draft?” Danielle asked. “Did your grandfather fix it so you didn't have to serve?”

“About a month after we entered the war, they passed the Selective Service Act. Of course that didn't apply to me; I was only eighteen at the time.”

“I thought the draft applied to eighteen year old males.”

Walt shook his head. “Initially it only applied to men 21 to 31. There was a third registration, the following year, where it would have applied to me. But that was in the fall, and by that time I was already sick with influenza.”

“You're not talking about the pandemic I've read about?” Danielle asked.

“It's interesting, watching documentaries about all that now—almost a hundred years later. But yes, the same one.
I became ill in September of 1918. Although, most people didn't even realize there was an epidemic here. Reports started coming in the following month. I almost died—I was sick for quite a while.”

“Walt, I never knew. I always heard the pandemic was especially hard on healthy males; you were lucky.”

“Unfortunately, my grandfather wasn't.”

“Are you saying, your grandfather died during the pandemic?”

Walt nodded. “The war had ended, I was starting to feel better, my Grandfather got sick, and within hours he was gone. I always thought it so strange, considering he was around me during my illness, and seemed fine through it.”

“What about your grandmother?” Danielle asked.

“She was already gone. And here I was, barely 21, the sole owner of a shipping company—and all alone.”

“That must have been terrifying.”

Walt shrugged. “I decided to sell the company—which didn't make me especially popular at the time, since they moved the entire company out of Frederickport, and with it, jobs. But I didn't want to run the shipping company. I'd already lost the woman I loved, my last family member, and almost lost my own life. I decided time on this earth was short—and I was determined to enjoy it. Plus, they offered me a considerable sum to sell.”

“So you got involved with party boats?”

Walt smiled at Danielle. “Not right away. After I sold the company, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. Money wasn't an issue. Traveled abroad for about a year and when I came home I found the brown they were peddling was barely worth drinking.”

Danielle frowned. “Brown?”

“Whisky. Anyway, I was getting bored about that time, so a friend and I worked out a deal with a couple fellows we knew from Canada. I still owned the Eva Aphrodite, so we used her to import some first class moonshine. One thing led to another, and I started hosting parties on the boat.”

“Weren't you afraid of getting arrested?” Danielle asked.

“We were okay as long as we were in international waters. But that didn't protect us when transporting the hooch from Frederickport. Got boarded one time, managed to toss the booze before they got too close. After that, Jack and I decided to stick more to ferrying our customers out to the party boats, rather than hosting parties ourselves.”

“Jack? Who's Jack?”

“Someone who I thought was my best friend, turned out to be nothing but a piker.”

“Marie mentioned something about a friend of yours, taking off with some money around the same time that the Eva Aphrodite went down.”

Walt stood up and shook his head, a fresh cigar appearing in his hand. “I can't believe her father told her all that.”

“Is Jack the one she's talking about?”

Walt nodded and walked to the window. “We had a nice little thing going on.” Placing his hands on the windowsill, he gazed outside. “If he needed the money, all he had to do was ask me. It's not like I was doing it for the kale.”

“Kale?”

Walt chuckled. “Money. I wasn't doing it for the money.”

“Why were you doing it?” she asked in a soft voice.

He shrugged. “For the hell of it, I suppose.”

“How much did Jack take off with?”

“It was a couple thousand, from what I recall. I let Jack handle the money. My first mistake.”

“Marie said something about Jack staying with her parents at the time.”

Walt turned from the window and faced Danielle. “Yeah. Jack was renting a room from George. He was keeping our money over there, and I told him he needed to move it. I didn't think it was safe to keep it there.”

“You didn't trust Marie's dad?”

“Just the opposite. People knew what was going on. It was an open secret. If someone realized Jack was keeping the money at George's, it wouldn't be safe for George and his family. I told Jack to bring it over to Marlow House. He gave me some excuse, promised he'd bring it over. And the next thing I know, he's vanished from George's—along with the money.”

“Did you try looking for him?”

“He was seeing this little Sheba from town. She lived with her aunt and uncle in a broken down motel that used to be on the south side of town. I checked there, but she was gone too. Pretty obvious to me, the two had taken off together. But then I got news the Eva Aphrodite had never arrived at the party ship. It was no longer important to look for Jack. Figured I really didn't want to find him.”

“Marie said there had been a bad storm that night.”

“Yes. But there had been storms before and she was sea worthy and had a good crew. But we sent out rescue boats—never found a trace of her. At least, not until yesterday.”

“Do you have any idea who the spirit I saw might have been?”

Walt faced Danielle; his cigar disappeared. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I know exactly who it was. It was Jack.”

Danielle frowned. “Jack? Why do you say that?”

“For one reason, he paid me a visit yesterday.”

“Jack? Your friend that double-crossed you, he was here? Yesterday?”

“At least his ghost was.”

“Okay, maybe you did see Jack, but what makes you think that's the spirit I saw?”

“Jack was wearing a dark blue pinstripe suit.”

Danielle stared at Walt for a moment before responding. “If you're right, why was he with the wreckage? Didn't you just say he took off with his girlfriend? Are you saying, you now think he might have been on the boat instead?”

Walt shook his head. “No. Jack wasn't on that boat. But considering what can bind spirits to this realm—my dear wife at the local cemetery, Darlene at Pilgrims Point, that annoying little twerp at Presley House. Perhaps Jack's eternity is in some way tied to the Eva Aphrodite—the ship he profited and stole from.”