The Ghost Who Wasn't (Haunting Danielle Book 3) (6 page)

D
anielle considered
his question for a moment and then asked, “Joe, what can I do for you?”

“I was hoping I could come in for a moment so we can talk.”

“This really isn’t a good time. I have guests arriving this afternoon, and I still have some things to get ready.” Danielle glanced over her shoulder at Lily, who stood quietly listening.

“Please, Danielle. Can you just give me ten, fifteen minutes?”

Reluctantly, she opened the door wider and stepped aside, letting him into the foyer.

“You in trouble with the law again?” Lily teased.

Trying to ignore Lily, Danielle shut the front door and looked at Joe, waiting for him to say what was on his mind. Absently, she tucked strands of hair, which had escaped from her braid, back behind her ear.

“Wow, does that boy look lovesick!” Lily noted.

“Maybe we could talk in the parlor?” Joe glanced to the closed parlor door. Nervously his hands fidgeted with the brim of his baseball cap.

“He still wants you, Danielle. Yep, that boy is heartsick.”

Danielle closed her eyes briefly, trying to shut out Lily. Looking at Joe she said, “No, not the parlor. Let’s go into the library.” Instead of waiting for him to reply, she turned and headed down the hallway, leaving Joe to follow in her wake.

“He really is good looking,” Lily said as she walked by Danielle’s side, glancing over her shoulder at Joe. “He has that macho Italian thing going for him.”

“Hush,” Danielle whispered under her breath.

“I bet he’s going to beg you again to forgive him. He looks so sad, I almost feel sorry for him.”

“Lily, please stop,” Danielle whispered as she walked into the library. When Joe followed her into the room, Danielle waved toward the sofa, silently offering him a seat. Before she knew what was happening, he tossed his cap on the sofa, walked to her, and placed his hands on her shoulders, looking seriously into her eyes.

“I wanted to say, how so very sorry I was to hear about Lily,” he said solemnly.

Danielle’s eyes widened and she stepped back abruptly. Joe dropped his hands from her shoulders.

“He knows…” Lily said. “Wow, news travels fast. I wonder how he found out.”

“I’d like to know that too,” Danielle said.

“Excuse me?” Joe asked with a frown.

“Umm…I meant I’d like to know how you found out about Lily.”

“I saw it on her Facebook page,” Joe explained.

“Facebook page?” Danielle glanced from Joe to Lily.

Lily shrugged. “People must be posting about my death on Facebook. We need to look at it. I’m curious what people are saying about me.”

“Lily was one of my Facebook friends,” Joe explained.

“You were Facebook friends?” Danielle’s eyes darted to Lily.

“In all fairness, he accepted my friend’s request before all that mess with Cheryl. I considered deleting him. But I wanted to see what he was up to. I knew you weren’t one of his Facebook friends, so I figured I’d let you know if I read anything interesting on his page.”

“Danielle, I know how close you two were. I wish you would’ve called.”

“Lily is not dead,” Danielle said.

“I don’t understand? What about all those things they’re posting on her page?”

“I haven’t read her Facebook page.”

“But you obviously know…”

“I know her car was in an accident, and someone was killed. But the identity of the driver hasn’t been confirmed. As far as I’m concerned, Lily is still out there, alive someplace.”

“Oh Danielle,” Joe said sadly. Stepping toward Danielle, he reached out for her hand. Abruptly she stepped back, avoiding his touch. Dropping his hand, he shook his head wearily.

“Stop looking at me like that!” Danielle snapped.

“What do you mean?”

“Yeah, Dani, what do you mean? He is just trying to be comforting. I think it’s sweet.”

“Like I’m broken,” Danielle said, ignoring Lily’s comment. “It was nice of you to come over here and offer your sympathy, but it’s premature. I prefer to believe Lily is alive. And until the accident victim is positively identified, no one knows for sure.”

“I didn’t know I was looking at you that way.” Joe took a deep breath.

“It’s just that I think it’s premature to think the very worse.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t made a positive identification yet. When are they supposed to know?”

“Her mother said Monday, maybe. There was some mix up with the dental records.”

“I understand you wanting to hold on to hope. But Danielle, it doesn’t look good. You’ve been through so much already. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” Danielle insisted.

“You have to admit, Dani, it is rather sweet, the way he wants to take care of you.” Lily plopped down on the couch. Putting her feet up on the sofa, she watched the pair.

“How’s Ian. Does he know?”

“Yes. And he’s like me, holding on to hope that Lily wasn’t in the car.”

Joe looked down at Sadie who sat by Danielle’s side. “Where is Ian? Is he here? In the parlor?”

“The parlor?” Danielle asked.

“Since Sadie’s here, he must think Ian is too. And since you didn’t want him to go into the parlor, he must think Ian’s in there,” Lily surmised.

“Ian went out of town. I’m watching Sadie,” Danielle explained.

Joe didn’t reply.

“He looks a little jealous,” Lily observed. “I wonder if he thinks you and Ian have something going on now. After all, you two did run into Joe the other day when you had breakfast together.”

“Joe, it was thoughtful of you to come over today and offer your condolences. But like I said, Ian and I prefer to hold on to hope that Lily is still alive. But in the meantime, I do have a business to run, and my guests are going to be arriving shortly, and I have a million things to do.”

Instead of leaving, Joe walked to the couch and started to sit down.

“Hey, watch out!” Lily shouted from her place on the sofa. Unable to get out of the way fast enough, Lily found Joe’s body covering hers as he sat down. Surrendering the sofa to Joe, Lily rushed to Danielle’s side and shuddered. “Eww, that was sort of creepy!”

“Always freaks me out when Sadie does that with Walt,” Danielle said under her breath, just loud enough for Lily to hear.

“Excuse me?” Joe asked.

“Umm, nothing.” Danielle shook her head as if trying to clear out the cobwebs. “But like I said, I really need to get ready for my guests.” Danielle’s eyes darted from Joe to the open door leading to the foyer.

“I am a little surprised you’re taking reservations, considering everything.”

“Well, to be honest, I had the reservation before I heard about the accident.” Reluctantly, Danielle sat down on a chair facing Joe.

“Maybe it would be a good idea if you found them someplace else to stay,” Joe suggested.

“I can’t do that. Plus, it’s their honeymoon.”

“I’m sure you could find them someplace to stay, it’s the slow season, vacancies all over town, and it’s not like you need the business.”

“He may be sweet, but he is kind of a butt-in-ski,” Lily noted.

“If I intend to make a success of the bed and breakfast, I certainly can’t turn away customers.”

“Danielle, with everything that’s happened, I really don’t understand why you still want to operate Marlow House as a bed and breakfast.” He leaned back and studied Danielle.

“Why do you say that?”

“For one thing, you don’t need the money.”

“That may be true, but I can’t very well sit around the rest of my life and…and do what exactly?”

“I just don’t understand a bed and breakfast—letting strangers into your house. You are a single woman, living all alone. It’s not safe.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with me turning this place into a bed and breakfast when we first met.”

“That was before…” Instead of finishing his sentence, Joe picked up his cap and began fidgeting with it.

“Before what?”

“It’s just that so much has happened since you moved to Frederickport. I worry about you here alone with strangers. It wasn’t as bad when Lily was here.”

“What do you mean?”

Joe looked into Danielle’s questioning eyes. “Lily could keep an eye on things. Make sure you were okay.”

“You mean, keep an eye on me? What, like a child?” Danielle told herself to stay calm.

“Oh. My. Gawd.” Lily choked out. “He really has no clue who you are!”

“No, not like a child. But Danielle, you’re vulnerable. Especially now with what you’re going through with Lily. As it is, you’ve had a rough summer, and now with your inheritance you’ll be a target for every fast talking scammer out there. Opening your home to the public just doesn’t seem like the smart thing to do, considering everything.”

“Ah yes, my summer,” Danielle said angrily, standing up again. “And who helped make my summer so memorable? You arresting me—at gunpoint—was certainly the highlight.”

“You were about to bash in Clarence’s head.”

“I was not about to bash in his head. It just looked that way. And anyway, considering he tried to kill me, I think I had every right to defend myself.”

“I did not come over here to argue with you.” Joe stood up and fitted the baseball cap on his head. “I wish you would understand I’m just trying to help you. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do…help you. I care about you, Danielle.”

Danielle took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. Once again calm, she looked at Joe.

“I believe you Joe. I think you do care about me.”

“I do. I just want what’s best for you,” he insisted.

“But the problem with that, you think you know what’s best for me. But you don’t. How could you? You don’t even know me.”

“You believe that,” Joe said wearily, walking to the door. “But I know you better than you think.”

Danielle didn’t respond. Instead, she silently walked with Joe to the front door, Lily by her side.

When they got to the front door, Joe turned and looked somberly at Danielle. “I hope you’re right about Lily. I hope she’s alive and comes home. But if she doesn’t, I want you to know I am always here for you. If you need anything, please call me.”

“When I have news about Lily, I’ll let you know.”
So I can say I told you so.

“Thank you. I would appreciate that.” He glanced briefly at the closed parlor door and then looked back at Danielle. “When you see Ian, tell him I was asking about him. This must be rough on him. I know how much he cared about Lily.”

Before Danielle could respond the front door bell rang. Without hesitation, Joe reached for the door and opened it. Standing on the front porch was a well dressed, thirty-something couple.

S
ilently
, Hunter grabbed Claire’s left hand, holding her in place. He knew instinctively she was ready to bolt. He couldn’t blame her. The last person he expected to greet them at the door of Marlow House was a uniformed policeman.

Part of him wanted to turn tail and put some distance between him and the cop, yet he hadn’t come this far to throw it all away by overreacting.

A young woman appeared at the doorway next to the officer. Giving the cop a gentle nudge with her hip, she pushed him out of the doorway, making room for Hunter and Claire to enter. “You must be the Stewarts,” she greeted. She looked at the officer and back to Hunter before saying, “He was just leaving.”

Judging by the woman’s appearance, Hunter wondered if she was the housekeeper—dressed in worn faded denims and a powder blue shirt. Her dark hair was pulled back into a fancy braid, but wayward strands had already made their escape. Glancing down, he noticed she was barefoot, and he couldn’t imagine the housekeeping staff running around shoeless.

“Yes, yes we are.” Hunter looked from the woman to the cop. “Have you had some sort of problem?”

“Problem? No, no problem at all. I’m Danielle Boatman, your host at Marlow House. This is Sargent Morelli. He was just leaving.”

“You know where I am if you need me,” Sargent Morelli told the woman before giving Hunter and Claire a brief nod and smile. He made his way down the walkway toward the street.

“I’m Hank Stewart, and this is my wife, Claire.”

“Nice to meet you. Please, please come in.” Danielle stepped away from the doorway.

Releasing hold of Claire, Hunter moved his hand to her lower back and gave her a little shove toward the doorway as he picked up the suitcase sitting by his feet on the front porch. Together they walked into Marlow House. Danielle followed them, closing the door behind them.

“You’ll have to excuse how I’m dressed,” Danielle said with a blush. “I expected you a little later.”

“We got here sooner than I expected. I hope it’s all right.” Hunter flashed Danielle his most charming smile. “And you look fine, Ms. Boatman. Doesn’t she, darling?”

Claire, dressed in a conservative linen suit, responded with a silent nod as she glanced around the foyer, her eyes wide. “This is sure an old house, isn’t it?”

“Yes, over a hundred years,” Danielle said proudly. “It was built in 1871.”

Claire let out a low whistle and said, “Wow, that’s old.” She looked at Danielle and asked, “It does have a bathroom doesn’t it? I mean, we don’t have to go outside and use the toilet, do we?”

“Of course it has a bathroom, darling.” Hunter grabbed Claire’s hand again and gave it a tight squeeze.

Claire yanked her hand from Hunter’s hold and glared at him. “I was just asking,” she said under her breath.

“Let me show you to the library. You can wait there while I get your room ready. It will only be a few minutes,” Danielle suggested.

Danielle led them to the library. She left Hunter and Claire there while she went upstairs.

“Maybe the next time you have something stupid to say, just don’t,” Hunter snapped.

“I don’t think it was stupid. This house is frickin ancient. How was I to know if it had an indoor toilet?”

“Do you honestly think she could run this place as a bed and breakfast without indoor plumbing?” Hunter asked.

“How am I supposed to know? I’ve never been to a bed and breakfast before.” Claire plopped down on the sofa and looked around. “You think she’s read all these books?”

“I doubt it.” Hunter took a seat next to Claire and looked around. “I bet these were all here when she inherited this place.”

“I wonder why that cop was here.”

“She sure seemed anxious to get rid of him,” Hunter said.

“I was glad to get rid of him myself. You don’t think he was here because of us, do you?”

“I don’t see how that’s possible. I thought for a moment there you were going to take off when he opened the door.”

“You didn’t have to grab my wrist so hard.”

“Don’t be such a baby.” Hunter leaned back on the sofa and looked around the room. “I didn’t see his car parked out front when we drove up. Did you notice a cop car on the street?”

“I wasn’t paying any attention.”

“I’d think you’d notice a cop car!”

“Well you didn’t notice one either!”

“Yeah well, I was looking for this house and driving. You were just sitting there. The least you could do is pay attention to the area. From what I remember, there were a couple cars parked up the street at the neighbors. Maybe one was a cop car.”

“So why do you think he was here?” Claire asked.

“I just hope she’s not sleeping with the guy. We don’t need him hanging around here.”

“She called him Sargent Morelli. Didn’t call him by his first name,” Claire reminded him.

“That doesn’t mean anything. We just don’t need a cop nosing around.”

“So what do we do now? Do we start—”

Hunter grabbed Claire’s wrist, giving it a squeeze. “Quiet!

Claire jerked her hand from him. “Stop doing that! You’re going to bruise me.”

Hunter took a deep breath then asked, “Do you smell that?”

Claire sniffed the air. “Smells like someone was smoking in here. I hope that means we can smoke in our room. I’m getting tired of having to go outside to have a cigarette.”

Hunter stood up and closed his eyes. “Someone is here with us…”

“What?” Claire sat up straight and stared at Hunter. “Who’s here?”

“I feel a presence…”

“I hate it when you do that. Freaks me out.”

“No reason to be afraid, Claire. He’s here to help us.”

“It’s a he?” Claire anxiously watched Hunter, who walked around the room, his arms stretched outward, as if he was trying to touch something.

“Whoever it is, he’s been here a long time…”

“Are you telling me this old house is haunted?” Claire warily glanced around.

“Are you surprised?” Hunter stopped walking and looked at Claire. “Didn’t I tell you a man killed himself in the attic? I bet it’s him.”

“The dead guy? He’s still here?” Claire jumped up.

“Yes, I’m certain it’s him. From what I remember in the article, his last name was Marlow, like the house.”

“And his first name?”

“First name? I don’t remember …” Hunter closed his eyes and said, “Spirit, tell me your name.”

Hunter stood there a few minutes, his eyes closed, saying nothing as Claire watched. Finally, he opened his eyes and said, “Marvin. His name is Marvin. Marvin Marlow.”

“Marvin Marlow? That’s kind of a dorky name.”

“Please Claire, you’re going to offend the spirit and we need his help!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Claire sat back down on the sofa.

“According to what I read about this place, Marvin Marlow’s death was ruled a suicide, he hung himself in the attic. But the current owner, Danielle Boatman, has been telling the story that he was murdered.”

“You mean he was murdered; he didn’t kill himself?”

“No.” Hunter shook his head. “Marvin Marlow killed himself. That’s why his spirit is so conflicted—why he’s trapped here.”

“You said he was going to help us?”

“Yes, Claire. He’s going to be our guide.”

W
hen Danielle returned
to the library, she found Walt leaning casually against the edge of the desk, smoking a thin cigar, watching the Stewarts. Sitting next to him on the desktop was Lily, her ankles casually crossed.

“You have a couple winners here,” Walt said with a chuckle when Danielle walked into the room.

“Walt’s right, Dani. I don’t think you should let them stay,” Lily said.

Trying to ignore Walt and Lily, she smiled at her guests. “Your room is ready. Would you like to go up now and see it?”

Claire started to stand up, but Hunter motioned for her to sit down. He turned to Danielle and said, “Ms. Boatman, I think there is something you need to know about your house.”

“Yes, Mr. Stewart? What’s that?”

“It’s inhabited by a spirit—a very troubled spirit,” Hunter said in a serious tone.

“A spirit?” Danielle glanced over to Walt who responded with a shrug.

“I told you; you shouldn’t let them stay,” Lily said.

“Do you understand what I’m saying Ms. Boatman?”

“Not really. When you say spirit, what exactly do you mean?”

“In layman’s terms Ms. Boatman, your house is haunted. You are sharing your home with a ghost.”

“A ghost?” Danielle’s eyes darted to Walt and Lily, and back to Hunter.

“Oh, don’t be afraid, Ms. Boatman,” Claire said, standing up. “Hu…I mean Hank knows all about spirits and stuff…he’s gifted.”

“Really?” Danielle raised her brow. “And you say this house is haunted?”

“Yes, but there is no reason to worry. As soon as we give the spirit what he needs, he’ll be able to leave, to move on. I can help you do that. It’s what I do.”

“You mean, like Ghostbusters?” Danielle couldn’t help but giggle.

“You know I hate the word ghost,” Walt scolded.

“Please Ms. Boatman, don’t make light of the situation.”

“I’m not…really…I am just surprised,” Danielle said, suppressing more giggles. “Where is this ghost right now, do you know?”

“Why, he is over there,” Hunter said as he pointed to Walt and Lily.

No longer finding humor in the situation, Danielle cleared her throat and asked, “Are you telling me you can see him?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Hunter said with a laugh. “People can’t actually see spirits. That’s a bunch of media hype. When communicating with spirits, it’s on a different level, something I don’t expect you to understand.”

“I say it’s a lucky guess,” Walt said. “He smelled the cigar smoke.”

Silently, Danielle considered Walt’s suggestion before asking, “Mr. Stewart, is there just one spirit, or do you think there could be more than one?”

“More than one? Why would you think that? Did someone else die in this house?” Hunter asked.

“No…not that I know of…I was just curious…umm…you mentioned you could get rid of the spirit, exactly how do you do something like that?”

“First, you need to stop spreading lies about him,” Hunter explained.

“Lies?”

“I read your brochure on Marlow House. You wrote about how one of the previous owners died in the attic. You claimed it was murder and not a suicide.”

“Yes, that’s true. At the time it happened, the police assumed it was suicide. But I did some research and discovered he was murdered.”

“No, Ms. Boatman, he killed himself. He wasn’t murdered. I can understand that the story of a murder might be more titillating for your brochure, the mystery and all. But he needs the truth to come out. He wants people to know he killed himself.”

Danielle looked at Walt and said, “He does, does he?”

“Is that true Walt?” Lily asked with a laugh. “You have to admit, this guy is amusing…and somewhat creepy.”

Walt shrugged. “I told you they were winners. The guy gets a whiff of my cigar smoke and he takes off on some wild tangent.”

“But what about the other thing, Walt?” Lily asked.

“I’m afraid you’re wrong, Mr. Steward. Walt Marlow was murdered in the attic. In fact his autopsy verifies that.”

“Walt Marlow? It wasn’t Walt Marlow who died in the attic, it was Marvin Marlow.”

“Marvin Marlow?” Danielle frowned.

“Yes, Marvin Marlow. The man you wrote about in your brochure.”

“No, his name was Walt Marlow. You must have confused the Walt Marlow story with someone else’s.”

“Not unless two men died in your attic,” Hunter insisted. “Marvin must have been his nickname. Or perhaps it was his given name, and he went by Walt.”

“Where exactly did you get the name Marvin?”

“The ghost told him,” Claire spoke up.

“The ghost told him?” Danielle asked, glancing from Claire to Hunter.

“Yes. The minute we walked in here Hank could feel the ghost. He’s gifted. When he asked the ghost for his name, he told him. I know it’s hard to believe, but my husband is always doing this sort of thing.”

“This is where it gets kinda weird, Dani,” Lily said. “Tell her Walt."

“I was just kidding around,” Walt insisted. “I had no idea he could hear me. When he asked me what my name was, I just said…Marvin.”