The Ghost and the Silver Scream Page 7

  Phoebe walked into the library. “Everything is unpacked.”

  “Help yourself to some tea and cookies,” Danielle told Phoebe, pointing to the tea set and plate of cookies on the table.

  “When do we get that tour of the house?” Phoebe asked brightly as she picked up a cookie.

  “When Birdie is finished getting settled in her room,” Seraphina told her.

  “I did offer to help her.” Phoebe poured herself a cup of tea. “But she insisted on doing everything herself.”

  “You know how Birdie prizes her privacy,” Seraphina reminded her.

  Chris didn’t bother knocking. Marlow House always felt like a second home to him. He entered through the kitchen door and found Joanne standing at the counter, chopping up vegetables.

  “Hi, Chris,” Joanne greeted him, looking up from the cutting board.

  “Hi, Joanne. I saw a strange car out front. Some of the people get here?” He lifted the lid from the cake pan on the kitchen table and snatched the remaining cinnamon roll.

  “I’m telling Walt you took the last one,” she teased.

  “How about I give you half?” he asked.

  “Deal.”

  With a laugh Chris tore the cinnamon roll in half and handed one side to Joanne.

  “So, who’s here?” Chris asked.

  “The singer. She’s in the library now with Walt and Danielle.”

  “Ohh…Seraphina…I have to meet her. I’m a big fan.” He started for the kitchen door but was stopped when Joanne called his name. He paused and looked at her.

  “If I were you, I would finish that roll before you walk in there, and Walt sees it.”

  Chris chuckled. “You have a point.” He finished the roll and then licked his fingers as he left the kitchen.

  When Chris barreled into the library a few minutes later, he froze in his tracks the moment his eyes set on Seraphina. He hadn’t expected her to be so—so—stunning in person. How could it be possible she looked even better in real life, he wondered.

  It was not just her appearance and talent that had fascinated him—it was her story. Like him, she had been raised in foster care after her parents had been killed in an accident. But unlike him, she had never gotten out of the foster care system. At least, not until she came of age.

  She wore her long black curls down and free flowing, and while he suspected she wore makeup, he couldn’t see the makeup—just the results, which were flawless. As much as he was physically attracted to her, it wasn’t her celebrity status that pulled in his reins, it was her age—which was even more apparent in person. Seraphina was young—barely in her twenties. With a sigh, he flashed the room his lopsided grin and approached the group.

  “Chris, hi,” Danielle greeted him.

  “Playing hooky from work?” Walt teased.

  “The boss won’t notice I’m gone,” Chris retorted, then turned his attention to Seraphina and Phoebe.

  “Seraphina, Phoebe, I’d like you to meet a good friend of ours, Chris Johnson.”

  Phoebe sipped her tea and silently studied the handsome and hunky Chris Johnson. She had noticed his last name was the same as the housekeeper’s. Must be a son or younger brother, she thought. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and he was far too young to be the housekeeper’s husband. Plus, men who looked like that did not settle for women who looked like the housekeeper—not unless she was as rich as Birdie.

  Like most of the men they encountered, his attention focused on Seraphina. The celebrity in the room always got first billing. I will not always be in the background, Phoebe thought. Someday she too would be walking that red carpet. She listened as Chris peppered Seraphina with countless questions and annoying praises. He didn’t even make an attempt to conceal his obvious adoration. Yes, he was ridiculously good looking. But so? Beautiful men were a common commodity in Seraphina’s world. Although, Phoebe had to admit, he was damn exceptional in the looks department. Made a woman drool.

  Seraphina flashed Chris one of those smiles. Phoebe knew that smile. The foolish woman was interested in the housekeeper’s son—or brother. Whoever he was. No, that was not going to happen. The last thing Phoebe needed was a new love interest hanging around while she was trying to rebuild her relationship with Sera. What inevitably always happened, the man grew weary of Sera, and then he turned his attention to Phoebe. Phoebe didn’t need that type of aggravation right now, especially since a man with Chris’s looks might be difficult to turn down.

  Eleven

  A knock came at the library’s open doorway. Danielle glanced over to see Birdie peeking into the room.

  “So this is where you’re all hiding,” Birdie said as she stepped into the library.

  “Are you all unpacked?” Seraphina asked.

  “Yes…” Birdie glanced around the four walls, a collection of dark paneling and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves housing a massive collection of leather-bound books. “I just love home libraries. And this one is exceptional.”

  As her gaze washed over the room, it came to an unfamiliar person sitting next to Seraphina. She paused a moment and just stared.

  “This is Chris, Birdie. Chris, this is Birdie—” Seraphina began.

  “You’re one of the cast members!” Birdie declared. “Teddy and Jackie didn’t mention any of them were coming, aside from Seraphina. But you must be the new actor playing Hunter Rage, am I right? Teddy mentioned there was a problem with the original actor cast in the role.”

  Chris broke into a wide Cheshire cat grin and turned the smile to Walt. “Whatcha say, Walt? Would I be perfect for the main character from your book?”

  Walt rolled his eyes. “I would prefer someone who can act rather than just standing there and looking pretty.”

  “You think I’m pretty?” Chris asked in a goofy voice.

  Danielle broke into a chuckle and then said, “No, Birdie. This is a friend of Walt’s and mine. Chris Johnson. Chris, I would like you to meet Birdie Adair.”

  Chris stood, smiled at Birdie, and shook her hand while offering her a cordial greeting.

  “You could be an actor,” Birdie declared when their brief handshake ended.

  Chris thanked her and returned to his seat while Birdie continued her inspection of the room. She stopped a moment later at the life-sized portraits and began studying them.

  “Isn’t it eerie how much Walt looks like the man in the portrait?” Seraphina asked Birdie.

  Still focused on the portrait, Birdie nodded. “It is amazing. If I hadn’t heard the story behind these paintings, I would assume it was of Walt.”

  “If you think about it, it is. Wasn’t his name Walt too?” Phoebe asked.

  Ignoring Phoebe’s comment, Birdie turned her attention to the second portrait. “This is the wife, the one you believe tried to kill him?” Birdie asked Danielle.

  “Yes. Her name was Angela,” Danielle said.

  Birdie turned to Phoebe and said, “You know, she looks a little like you. If they ever make a movie about the gold-digging little opportunist, I think you would be perfect for the part.”

  Phoebe’s expression went blank, and the room grew uncomfortably silent.

  “We have some cookies and tea. Would you like me to pour you a cup?” Danielle asked abruptly a moment later.

  Birdie turned to Danielle and smiled. “No, thank you. Not right now. But you mentioned a tour when we first arrived. I would love to see the rest of the house.”

  “There are a lot of stairs. Are you sure you can handle it?” Phoebe asked.

  Birdie smiled sweetly at Phoebe and said, “Stairs might slow me down a little these days, but I am persistent. If I really want to do something, I usually find a way to do it.”

  “If you’d like, we can have that tour now,” Walt said as he stood up.

  Walt and Danielle led the house tour, with Birdie walking with Walt, and Danielle following them with Phoebe. Chris and Seraphina trailed behind, the two continually chatting it up amongst themselves, lost in their ow
n private conversation. Phoebe continually flashed the pair annoyed glances over her shoulder, but neither one seemed to notice.

  They started in the library, where Walt discussed the extensive collection of books once owned by the original Walt Marlow—the one who had been murdered in the attic almost a century earlier. What none of them knew—aside from Danielle and Chris—he was that other Walt Marlow, now residing in what had been the body of a distant cousin by the same name. His cousin had willingly checked out of the body during a coma, wanting instead to move on with his recently deceased fiancée. Walt of today had accepted the gift—and another chance at life.

  From the library they went into the dining room, and then the kitchen, and to the parlor. When they returned to the entry hall, Walt asked if they would like to see the basement, and since they had read about the tunnel that ran under the street from the Marlows’ basement to a neighbor’s house, they all wanted to see—even Birdie who told them it might take her a little longer to get down the stairs, but she could do it. Ten minutes later, the group stood in the basement.

  “So where is this tunnel?” Phoebe asked.

  “You can’t see it now,” Danielle explained. She then removed a key from a hook on the wall and used it to unlock a padlock on what appeared to be a low-hanging cabinet door. After removing the padlock, she swung open the door, revealing a dark, damp enclosure.

  “This is where the access used to be,” Danielle explained. “We replaced the original panel with this door, but we had considered just closing up the wall after we sealed off the tunnel.”

  The three guests peeked into the dark enclosure.

  “But where is the tunnel?” Birdie asked.

  “Technically speaking, it’s still there,” Danielle said. “But it’s been sealed off from both sides.”

  Removing her cellphone from a pocket, Phoebe turned on the flashlight app and used it to illuminate the opening. She looked inside. On its far wall was another door, and like the one Danielle had just opened, it was padlocked. “So this is like a little mini tunnel leading to the main one?”

  “I suppose you could describe it that way,” Walt said.

  “That is so creepy,” Seraphina said, stepping back from the opening.

  “Can we see inside the main tunnel?” Phoebe asked.

  “Honestly, there’s not much to see. It’s pitch dark,” Walt explained. “Even with the light from your phone, you won’t see anything.”

  “Does that key open both padlocks?” Phoebe asked.

  “Yes,” Walt said.

  “Oh, stop, Phoebe.” Seraphina laughed. “You’re trying to get them to open up the other door so you can see inside the main tunnel.”

  “Which I can’t do,” Walt said. “I’m sorry. But it’s not safe; plus the door is difficult to open.”

  “You’re never going to open it again?” Phoebe asked.

  “No,” Walt said. “Not worth the risk. We don’t want the tunnel falling down on us.”

  “You are such a liar,” Danielle teased Walt fifteen minutes later. They stood at the first-floor landing while their guests followed Chris to the second floor.

  “It’s a pain to unlock that door,” Walt whispered.

  Danielle chuckled. “Well, I did wonder why you admitted the key fit. Once you said it, I thought, no, Walt, now she’s gonna wanna see inside.”

  “I realized that once I said yes. But then I caught myself,” Walt said.

  “Good save.” Danielle stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Quite creative.”

  “I’ve been around you long enough, picked up a few tricks on how to spin a believable lie at a moment’s notice.”

  Danielle giggled and said, “Glad I could help.”

  Walt and Danielle made their way up the stairs to give the rest of the tour, but Chris was already showing them the other bedrooms, which would be occupied when the remaining guests arrived.

  Marlow House, which had been built in 1871 by Walt’s grandfather, Frederick Marlow, founder of Frederickport, had changed very little since Walt’s death in 1925. The Victorian, a Second Empire with mansard rooflines, boasted wood floors and dark paneled walls. Even most of the furniture had been in the house at the time of Walt’s death. The most notable change was the remodeling of the attic into a master bedroom suite for Walt—which Walt and Danielle now used as a master bedroom. Another notable addition were the flat-screen televisions hanging in various rooms, the computer sitting in the library, the modern kitchen appliances, and washer and dryer.

  After inspecting the rooms on the second floor, the group made their way up the second flight of stairs to the attic bedroom suite. Walt and Danielle waited patiently for Birdie to make her way up, her one hand clutching the oak rail while the other held onto her cane. Worried about Birdie’s safety, Seraphina trailed behind the older woman, Chris by her side. Phoebe was already in the bedroom, having arrived first.

  Once they were all in the room, Danielle said, “Perhaps we couldn’t show you the tunnel, but would you like to see our secret staircase?”

  “A secret staircase? Seriously?” Seraphina asked.

  With a grin, Danielle opened the panel leading to the staircase. She flipped on its overhead light and stepped aside so her guests could see. Phoebe walked right into the stairwell, standing on the upper landing. She looked down. Seraphina followed her in, and Birdie stood outside looking in.

  “Where does it go?” Seraphina asked.

  “The bedroom that used to be mine,” Danielle said. “The stairwell goes to its closet. But we also have it locked on both sides, so our guests won’t feel someone is going to pop in on them.”

  “That’s the room you’re giving to Jackie and Julius?” Phoebe asked.

  “Yes,” Danielle said, standing next to Birdie, looking into the stairwell.

  “I can think of some great practical jokes you could do with something like this,” Phoebe said.

  Walt walked over to Chris, who sat quietly on the edge of Walt and Danielle’s bed, listening to the women discuss the hidden staircase. Walt sat down next to him.

  “I remember a time you wouldn’t tell anyone about that staircase,” Chris said.

  Walt shrugged. “After the tunnel was discovered, it was rather difficult to keep a secret, with all that went on. So now, it’s an interesting novelty for our guests.”

  “Do you miss the B and B?” Chris asked, the chatter of the women in the background.

  Walt shrugged. “Danielle misses it more than I do. To be honest, I rather enjoy our privacy.”

  Chris nodded. “Totally get you there.”

  An hour later Seraphina and Phoebe were back in Seraphina’s room. Yet they weren’t alone. Marie had just popped in and was curious to get a closer look at the celebrity houseguest.

  “You are a pretty thing,” Marie said to Seraphina as she watched the young woman take a seat along the edge of the bed. She looked to Phoebe and said, “You’re quite attractive yourself. Are you an actress too?” Of course, neither guest could see or hear the curious ghost.

  “That friend of theirs was quite attractive,” Seraphina noted.

  “Yes, and the way he was drooling over you, obviously another fan. I hope they don’t allow their friends to keep tromping through while we’re here. You certainly don’t need to be bothered by them,” Phoebe said.

  “Come on now, considering how he looks—and he seemed pretty nice—I can’t imagine it would be much of a bother to be around him.”

  Phoebe laughed. “Come on, Sera, men with looks like his are a dime a dozen in our world. And the guy’s the housekeeper’s son. Seriously, after Barry, didn’t you learn?”

  “How do you know he’s the housekeeper’s son? I didn’t hear him say that.”

  “They have the same last name. And I don’t think she’s his wife,” Phoebe said.

  “You silly woman,” Marie snapped. “Chris and Joanne aren’t even related.”

  “Even if he is the housekeeper’s son, so wh
at? I used to clean houses to make ends meet.”

  “Well, you aren’t that woman anymore!” Phoebe said. “And trust me, you can do a lot better than someone like Chris Johnson. There are lots of handsome men out there.”

  Twelve

  “Did you stop by for any reason other than to get a look at the beautiful and talented Seraphina?” Walt teased Chris as the two men sat alone in the library.

  “That and boredom,” Chris confessed. “Living and working in the same place makes me a little stir-crazy. I don’t know how you do it, living and working from home.”

  Walt shrugged. “Considering I was stuck in this house for almost a hundred years, I just appreciate I can actually get out sometimes.”

  Chris laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “I saw how you looked at our guest. I don’t know if you realize how fortunate you are to live during this era,” Walt said.

  “Why is that?” Chris asked.

  “Don’t say anything to Danielle,” Walt began.

  Chris arched his brows. “This sounds interesting.”

  Walt chuckled. “It’s nothing bad. Just something a wife doesn’t appreciate listening to.”

  “Go on.”

  “When I…during my first life…that character in my book, the jazz singer, was inspired by a real woman.”

  “Yes, I know. You told us,” Chris reminded him.

  “What I didn’t tell you, I was quite smitten with her. Not that she would have gone out with me,” Walt mused.

  “I find that hard to believe,” Chris said, thinking of Walt’s wealth and standing in the community back then.

  “No, she was quite proud and would never have gone out with a white man. She never forgave her sister for passing as white to further her acting career. Felt it was a betrayal of her people. We were friends, and she accepted me as one. But to be honest, even if she would have gone out with me, it would have never worked. It would have killed my grandfather.”