“Why do you think your brother plans to murder her?” Walt asked.
“It’s only if she marries him. There would be no reason to otherwise. You need to help me break up their engagement.” Wesley looked at Danielle. “I understand you’re a good cook. Bonnie likes to cook, and she takes a class at the community center. You could join the class. Make friends with her. Start hanging out with her. Perhaps you could introduce her to some single guys. Convince her Adrian isn’t for her. She also belongs to a book club at the library. Do you like to read?”
“Are you sure you aren’t just jealous and don’t want to see her happy?” Danielle asked.
“No. He’ll kill her if they get married. And we must hurry. Adrian told her he doesn’t want to wait. He wants to get married right away. He almost has her talked into it.”
“None of that explains why you’re convinced Adrian plans to kill her. What is his motive?” Walt asked.
“The oldest motive in the world. Money.” Wesley slumped back in the chair. “My wife—widow—is a very rich woman.”
“That’s interesting. When Carla told us about you, she never mentioned your wife was wealthy. Carla rarely leaves out those details,” Walt said.
“Carla wouldn’t know. About nine months before my death, my wife inherited the estate of her aunt Cordelia. Cordelia lives in Frederickport, but she was a bit of a recluse. She didn’t really have any friends. The estate was finally settled a couple of weeks before Christmas, which was about a month before my last trip to California. And then there was the life insurance.”
“What life insurance?” Danielle asked.
“I sold insurance. I had a million-dollar policy on myself, and one on Bonnie. So when I died, she was the beneficiary of my life insurance.”
“How much did she inherit from her aunt?” Walt asked.
“It was a couple of million, plus the property. She hasn’t sold the house yet.”
“None of that means your brother wants Bonnie for her money,” Danielle said.
“Bonnie’s not his type. But more than that, ever since he wormed his way into her life, he’s been bringing up the will. He likes to remind her that if she was to die in an accident, her cousin would inherit everything. When we first had our wills drawn, Bonnie left everything to me. But if I predeceased her, she wanted everything to go to Rylee, who is not only her cousin, but her only remaining relative. But since we had that will drawn, Bonnie and Rylee had a falling-out, and Adrian is right about one thing, Bonnie would no longer want Rylee to inherit anything. I’m actually a little surprised Bonnie hasn’t changed her will already.”
“What was their falling-out about?” Danielle asked.
Wesley shrugged. “Bonnie wouldn’t tell me.”
“That is all very interesting, but I still don’t understand why you’re convinced Adrian has nefarious intentions,” Walt said.
Wesley stood up. “Not sure what else I can say. Trust me, in my gut Adrian isn’t talking to Bonnie about her will because he knows she’d hate Rylee to get anything. He wants to make sure he’s the beneficiary. Of course, if she doesn’t update her will, and Adrian marries her, I imagine he’ll inherit her estate anyway because they’ll be married then. I’m not a lawyer, so I could be wrong. But I can’t move on until I fix this.”
Wesley disappeared.
Danielle glanced around. “Did he leave?”
Walt shrugged. “It appears that way.”
Ian walked into the living room and then paused. He glanced around. “Is he still here?”
“He just left,” Walt explained.
Ian walked over to the sofa where Wesley had been sitting moments earlier and sat down. “Connor is asleep. I took a shower after I put him down and then looked in on him. He was out cold.”
“Good. Are you going back over to the hospital?” Danielle asked.
“I wanted to, but Lily wants me to stay here with Connor.” Ian leaned back on the sofa, crossing one leg over the opposing knee. “Now, what’s the story on your new ghost?”
“He wants us to prevent a murder,” Danielle began before recounting what had been said between her, Walt, and Wesley.
“Are you going to do anything?” Ian asked.
“I’m not sure what we can do,” Danielle said. “I’m not even convinced Wesley’s feelings have any basis in fact. He could just be angry his wife is moving on with his brother. And he certainly didn’t talk about his wife as if she was his great love.”
“Remember what Carla said about him,” Walt reminded him.
“What did Carla say?” Ian asked.
“Carla told us that when he used to come into the diner, he’d hit on her.”
“What I don’t understand. If you’re married and want to fool around, why would you hit on someone like Carla, who’s not known for her discretion?” Ian asked.
“Oh, who would you hit on?” Danielle teased.
Ian’s eyes widened dramatically. He pointed to his own chest and asked, “Me?”
Danielle nodded; her mouth turned into a mischievous grin.
“No one, of course.”
“Ahh, so sweet,” Danielle cooed.
Ian shrugged. “I just mean there is no one I could hit on discreetly. I would never know if Marie, Eva, or some other ghost was hanging around, and they would inevitably snitch to you, and you’d tell Lily.”
With a laugh, Danielle picked up a throw pillow and tossed it across the room, hitting Ian.
Chris wanted to go home, and Heather needed to pick up Bella from Chris’s house. Because they had been using Heather’s car that evening, she drove Chris home while Brian stayed behind and used her shower, since he hadn’t gone home after work.
As they drove by Marlow House, Heather noticed the lights on downstairs. “It looks like they’re still up.”
“I’m not really tired. Wonder how much longer they’re going to be up. I might go over there and tell them about Clay’s visit.”
“I thought that’s why you wanted to go home; you were tired?”
“I need to go home and take Hunny out.”
Heather pulled her car in front of Chris’s house and parked. Hands still on the steering wheel, she turned to look at Chris, who was unbuckling his seatbelt.
“And I didn’t want to be a third wheel all night,” Chris added.
“I want to talk to Walt and Danielle, too, about Clay.”
“So what do you want to do?” Chris asked.
Heather grabbed her cellphone from the dashboard and sent a text message to Danielle. She and Chris sat quietly for a few minutes while Heather stared at her phone’s screen.
Still staring at the phone, Heather suddenly smiled and looked up at Chris. “They said to come on over. You take Hunny out while I go grab Bella. We can drop her off when we pick up Brian and then go to Marlow House.”
By the time Chris, Heather, and Brian arrived at Marlow House, Danielle was upstairs, nursing the twins. When she came back downstairs, she found Walt had already filled Heather, Chris, and Brian in on their encounter with Wesley.
“Why do you think this Wesley dude is so sure his widow is in danger?” Heather asked Danielle when she walked into the living room.
“Oh, they already told you about him.” Danielle walked to an empty chair. “At first I wondered if he just doesn’t want her to get remarried.” She sat down.
“I suspect there’s more to it than what he’s telling you,” Chris suggested. “This Wesley is leaving part of the story out.”
Walt looked at Chris and smiled. “I was wondering that myself.”
“If there is, then he’d better tell us, or I don’t see how we can help him.” Danielle looked at Heather. “Did you guys already discuss Clay’s visit?”
Heather sat up a little straighter on the sofa. Chris sat to her right, and Brian to her left. “No, we wanted to wait until you got down here. No reason to repeat everything twice.” Heather then recounted their conversation with Clay.
When she was done, Ian gave a dry chuckle before saying, “It seems the spirits have some high expectations. The mediums need to make sure the Bowman twins stay on the right side of the law, and that Mrs. Sadler doesn’t become the new Mrs. Sadler.”
“At least Clay’s motive seems clearer cut,” Danielle said. “I imagine it can be quite a jolt to pass over and come to the realization you wasted your entire life and, in doing so, may have destroyed the one positive thing you created.”
After leaving Marlow House, Clay had taken a walk on the beach before ending up in the tunnel under Beach Drive, between Marlow House and what had been the Crawfords’ home. Standing in the dark tunnel, he remembered his first time entering the passageway, after following his sons inside. At the time, he had been so proud of the boys; they were both smart and cunning.
Yet now, he realized his folly, and he worried Heather and Chris wouldn’t help him. They’d both told him to stay away from Heather and wait for them to reach out to him. Yet he knew his wife would be leaving Frederickport in a few weeks, and if he failed to reach his sons before that time, he would need to follow them and find another medium to help. He stayed in the tunnel for about twenty minutes before traveling back to the street level.
He stood just outside Marlow House, looking through the living room window. Gathered there were the mediums of Beach Drive. He wondered, were they discussing his request? But then he remembered, they weren’t the only mediums in Frederickport. From what the ghosts in the cemetery said, there was another medium, one closer to his sons’ age.
Clay wasn’t sure how he managed it, but moments later, he stood in front of Chief MacDonald’s house. There were lights on inside. Silently, Clay moved from the street to the house and into the living room. There were no lights on in the living room, but he saw light coming from the hallway. He moved to the light and found himself in the kitchen. MacDonald stood at the sink, washing dishes. The chief, like his wife, had two boys to raise on his own.
Clay left the kitchen and moved down the hallway to the first open doorway. There he found a teenage boy sitting on the bed, playing a video game, the monitor hanging on a wall across from the bed. Clay walked between the boy and monitor, and the boy continued playing. He was obviously not a medium.
Again in the hallway, Clay moved to another open doorway. He looked into the room and saw a younger boy standing in the room, his back to him. Clay moved into the room. The boy turned around and then stopped abruptly upon seeing him, his eyes wide.
“You’re Clay Bowman,” the boy announced.
Surprised at both the boy’s words and calm, he asked, “You know who I am?”
“Yeah. And I know you’re dead. How come you’re sticking around?” The boy backed up slightly and plopped down on his bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress facing Clay.
“You’re not afraid of me?”
The boy’s grin widened. “If you were alive, sure. I’d be afraid. But you’re dead.”
“How can you be so sure?” Clay asked.
The boy pointed to Clay’s right foot. “Because you’re standing on the Lego castle I built, and it’s coming through your foot.”