“Me?” Walt frowned.
“Who are you?” Chris asked.
“Who I am is not as important as why I’m here,” the man explained. “And since you all can see me, then there is no reason for me to stick around once I tell you why I had to come.”
“Why is that?” Danielle asked.
“I want to prevent a murder,” the ghost said.
“Murder? Whose murder?” Danielle asked.
The man shrugged. “That’s the problem. I’m not sure. It could be several of them. Or none of them. But who knows, maybe all of them, considering I certainly didn’t see it coming.”
“Didn’t see what coming?” Chris asked.
The ghost looked at him. “Why, my murder, of course.”
“You were murdered?” Danielle asked.
“Didn’t I just say that?”
Danielle frowned. “And there’s going to be another murder?”
“I certainly hope not. That’s why I’m here.”
“And what does any of this have to do with me?” Walt asked.
“Just tell us who you are,” Chris insisted.
The ghost started to say something but then stopped. “I don’t know if I should say who I am. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
“Who would get in trouble if you told us who you are?” Walt asked.
“My killer, obviously.”
Danielle arched her brow at the ghost. “Your killer? You come and tell us you’ve been murdered, and then say you don’t want to get your killer in trouble?”
“It’s too late for me. I don’t want to see anyone go to prison over a little misunderstanding.”
“Your murder was a little misunderstanding?” Chris asked.
“Please, we’re getting off track here. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt,” the ghost insisted.
“Whose murder are you trying to prevent?” Danielle asked.
“Like I told you, I’m not quite sure,” the ghost said.
“Do you at least know who the would-be killer is?” Chris asked.
“Of course. The same person who killed me,” the ghost said.
“And who is this killer?” Chris asked.
“I told you, I can’t say. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
“Then I don’t know how you expect us to help you,” Danielle said impatiently.
“What does any of this have to do with me? Why are you here, and how did you know who I am?” Walt asked.
“Because they’re all coming here,” the ghost said matter-of-factly.
“Who’s coming here?” Walt asked.
“The possible victims, of course.” He then looked at Walt and said, “And I would probably still be alive if you hadn’t written that book, and I wouldn’t be standing in your kitchen right now.”
Before anyone could respond, the ghost of Marie Nichols—the image of an elderly woman—popped into the kitchen. She said a cheery hello; the other ghost looked at her in surprise and then vanished.
“Was it something I said?” Marie asked, glancing around the kitchen. She turned to the table. “Who was that?”
“Some guy who said he had been murdered,” Danielle explained.
“Murdered?” Marie repeated.
“Yes, and he seems to believe there’ll be more…here,” Chris said.
TWO
Marie sat quietly at Marlow House’s kitchen table, listening to Danielle explain their odd encounter with the apparition minutes earlier. When Marie had first arrived, she had been wearing a straw hat with her sundress—a dress made from a brightly patterned poppy fabric in red, orange, green and yellow. At least it looked as if it were made from the cheerful floral fabric. The dress was only an illusion, like the elderly woman wearing it and the straw hat, which had vanished the moment after Marie had sat down at the table with her friends.
Danielle finished with the telling, and Marie leaned back in her chair and let out a sigh.
“And you have no idea who the young man was?” Marie asked after a moment of pondering what she had just heard.
“None. The only thing he really told us, someone might be murdered,” Danielle said.
“We also know this has something to do with Walt and his book.” Chris glanced briefly to Walt and then looked back to Marie.
“That’s the most ludicrous part of all of this,” Walt grumbled.
“More ludicrous than a ghost randomly popping up in our kitchen and foretelling a murder? Of whom, he didn’t know, and a killer—his killer—whom he refused to name,” Danielle asked.
“I’m just saying it’s ridiculous to imagine my book is responsible for getting anyone killed. It is a book of fiction. And while many of the events did actually happen, they occurred a hundred years ago,” Walt argued.
“It has to have something to do with that movie crew,” Chris said.
“The movie crew?” Danielle asked.
Chris looked at her. “That has to be it. The ghost talked about someone coming here and then talked about Walt’s book. The only people coming here in the immediate future—at least as far as we know—are the people making the movie.”
“It still doesn’t make any sense,” Danielle argued.
“I wish we could have gotten that ghost to tell us more,” Walt said.
“I’m sorry I scared him off,” Marie apologized.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Danielle said. “Maybe he’ll come back.”
“I’ll go down to the cemetery and check around,” Marie offered. “Perhaps someone knows who he is. Spirits often check into the local cemetery when they hit town—to get an idea what type of lingering spirits are nearby and if there might be any mediums in the area that can help them.”
“Oh, please,” Danielle groaned. “The spirits at the cemetery haven’t been giving out our names, have they? Like some Ghost Chamber of Commerce? If so, please take our names off the list.”
Marie chuckled. “It doesn’t quite work that way, dear. And would you want us to turn away a spirit in need?” Before Danielle could respond, Marie vanished.
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Pearl Huckabee, Marlow House’s neighbor to the south, stood at her upstairs bedroom window, peering out the narrow opening between her curtains. She stared down into the driveway next door. The only car in the drive belonged to Chris Johnson. Walt and Danielle Marlow normally parked in their garage located to the rear of the property. Yet she knew only one car was currently parked there. Fifteen minutes earlier she had seen the Marlows drive off in their Packard.
She watched as Chris carried several suitcases to his car.
“Is he going somewhere?” Pearl wondered aloud. She glanced around the yard, looking for Chris’s pit bull, Hunny. She had once been terrified of the dog; she had even plotted to find a way to have it permanently banned from the neighborhood. But then the dog did something unexpected—it had saved Pearl’s life. She still did not like her neighbors and would prefer the house next door be vacant, as it had been when she was a child. However, Pearl now had a soft spot in her heart for Hunny.