A Spirited Gift

Marissa was going to her grandfather’s arraignment hearing that morning. She didn’t speak, giving me a diamond- hard look as she passed me in the doorway on the way out.

“She’s trying to get him out on bail since he’s old and not in good health,” Kevin told me. “He’s her only living relative and not exactly a threat or flight risk. I think the DA will work with her. She’s got Joe’s house to use as collateral for a bond.”

“Mrs. Stanley told me that Marissa is suing the museum to get the diary back.” I shrugged. “I’m glad I signed it over to them so it’s their property when the evidence from the trial is released. I can always look at it over there. Joe said Marissa wasn’t interested in it. That must count for something.”

“I don’t know. She could argue that she didn’t mean that you could keep it—much less sign it over to the museum.” He poured both of us more coffee. “I guess we’ll see. In the meantime, I’m glad she stayed here. I know she needs the job, and I need her. I don’t know how I got along without her.”

“Oh? That makes me feel a little insecure.”

“You look insecure.” He reached across the table and wiped jam from my cheek. “But I’m glad you could come over for a few hours since she has to be away. Everything came together at one time—food delivery, ballroom repair and upstairs carpet cleaning. Being an innkeeper has its drawbacks.”

“I don’t mind helping. You’re always helping me.”

“Even though I’m taking you away from what might be your last big money-making day this fall?”

I smiled and held his hand. “What’s a few hundred dollars? You’re paying me for this, right?”

“Yeah. Right. I got up early and made you corn muffins since I know how much you love them.”

“Mmm.” I chomped, mouth full of the delicious muffins. “And lunch? You mentioned lunch, right?”

We both heard the food delivery truck pull up to the back service area.

“Gotta run. Food waits for no man.” He picked up his supply list. “Call me if you need me. Thanks, Dae.” He kissed me and was gone.

I finished eating and put the dishes in the sink. “Time to explore!”

I figured I could walk between the downstairs ballroom and the upstairs rug cleaning—still managing to peek into a few nooks and crannies. The Blue Whale had such a rich—and sometimes tragic—history that it made me want to touch everything from doorknobs to ceiling fixtures.

I was careful what I touched and limited myself to only a few items each time. So far there hadn’t been anything emotionally overwhelming—like the diary—but I didn’t want to have any problems either.

Mostly, my visions showed elegant parties with guests eating smoked salmon canapes in glittery dresses and old-fashioned tuxedos. Other objects revealed only how they were made and delivered to the Blue Whale. But a few of the items I touched had been smuggled in—that was interesting too.

I could hear the rug-cleaning people getting started on the third floor. I left the crew replacing the ballroom window that had been destroyed during the storm and went upstairs to make sure the right rugs were being cleaned.

I hurried past the small room where Wild Johnny had been killed by Joe Endy so long ago. I’d already seen too much of that history, though I had to admit that old Bunk Whitley appeared to have told the truth about not killing Johnny.

A cold breeze swept down the hall and rattled the light fixtures in the ceiling. I looked around, but saw no sign of Rafe. I hoped he was resting in peace by now—and worried a little that I might become a ghost magnet. I had a lot of dead family members to consider.

It was a little eerie—especially when the door opened across the hall from that little room. It happened so slowly, I could almost convince myself that a strong breeze had nudged it ajar. The movement could be rationally explained. It was cold outside, and all the windows hadn’t been repaired as yet.

“There is more of gravy than of grave about you,” I quoted Dickens’s A Christmas Carol to reassure myself.

The door hadn’t swung open all the way. Somehow that comforted me enough to look in the room. The bed had been stripped down, and a huge bucket of cleaning supplies sat on the floor, waiting to be used.

I stepped in—another breeze making the crystals in the old chandelier chime together. I saw at once that my rational self had been right. The window had been broken during the storm, and the ocean breeze was coming in.

The cardboard that had been taped over the window had fallen to the carpet beneath it. I didn’t want to leave it that way, recalling my experience with the gulls flying in when we’d been looking for Sandi. Easy to fix—I went downstairs to find some tape.

The inn was fairly buzzing with noise and activity. I knew I could take care of this tiny problem for Kevin. I went into the room-size supply closet and turned on the light. The shelves held everything from cleaning supplies to extra bath products, and even rain gear was stashed here.

I found the masking tape and started back out. The tape had its own ideas, however. It dropped and rolled to the back of the closet. I had to feel around (hoping there weren’t any large spiders lurking) on the old wood floor in the dark corners beneath the shelves. I grabbed the tape finally—but something was now attached to the sticky sides.

It was a photo, or rather a chain of photos taken at one of those kiosks at the beach. I didn’t need to feel anything from it—though it was curious that I didn’t. Each of the four images was slightly different, but they were all of the same couple. Matthew and Marissa. Happy. Smiling. Kissing.

Chapter 48

This doesn’t mean she killed him, I thought. But it made all the pieces fit together. I sensed that a woman had killed Sandi when I touched the gun. Marissa was at the Blue Whale that night. Joe may have lied or forgotten that the pistol was still in the house. People who were guilty sometimes passed polygraphs. All of this made her look more like a suspect.

I wasn’t sure what to do with the photo—besides the obvious. After everything else, I didn’t want to be the one to openly accuse Marissa of murder. Especially since the police had already cleared her.

Deciding to wait until Kevin was finished with his food delivery, I put the picture in my pocket and started back upstairs. Maybe together Kevin and I could decide what should be done. My insides were churning. I felt like I was going to be sick.

I took some deep breaths as I reached the first-floor landing. I had to focus on taping the cardboard back in place so the gulls didn’t fly in and make even more work. I tried to let go of all the unknown possibilities.

My mind wouldn’t cooperate. Marissa was obviously the girlfriend I’d suspected Matthew had. She’d killed Sandi to get her out of the way so Matthew’s career wouldn’t be hurt.

But why kill Matthew? She’d done so much to clear the way to be with him. Had she confessed to killing Sandi and he’d rejected her? The questions were burning up my brain.

At the third-floor landing, I stopped to look out of the window. The food delivery truck was still there. How long did it take to deliver food anyway? I couldn’t wait forever to tell someone about the photo.

I forced myself to think about fixing that window. My feet dragged as I went down the hall. I could hear the rug cleaners talking as they took a break at the other end. There was plenty of time, I told myself. I couldn’t leave Kevin in the lurch.

I don’t know exactly what made me put the tape down on the bed and take out the photo. Maybe I wanted to be sure that what I’d seen was real. Maybe I was just nervous and a little scared.

Whatever the reason, I was standing by the window looking at the picture when I heard the door slam shut. I thought it was that errant breeze again—but when I turned around, there stood Marissa.

With a shaking hand, I put the picture back in my pocket and stared at her. Did she know?

“Dae. You’ve been snooping around,” she accused.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you have something that belongs to me.”

I took a deep, steadying breath. She wasn’t a ghost. She couldn’t have looked over my shoulder from the door