The Ghost of Marlow House (Haunting Danielle Book 1) by Anna J. McIntyre, Bobbi Holmes Page B
Authors: Anna J. McIntyre, Bobbi Holmes
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possible? Danielle wondered. It isn’t like they didn’t have telephones back then. If
Angela was still in Portland with her brother, how was it that he was in
Frederickport giving an interview?
When flipping through the newspaper
Danielle came across an editorial discussing the evils of alcohol, supporting
prohibition and citing Walt Marlow’s recent suicide as proof that alcohol
brings nothing but grief and destruction.
The next newspaper held a clue to
Danielle’s question. According to the third article, Roger had arrived in Frederickport
ten hours after George Hemming’s gruesome discovery. Why he was there the
article didn’t say; it only said that his sister was still in Portland and
couldn’t be reached.
“Why would Roger come to Frederickport
if his sister was supposedly visiting him in Portland?” Danielle whispered
aloud. Anxiously she turned to the next newspaper, hoping to find the answer.
To her disappointment the next paper skipped years ahead.
“Someone must have gotten these out of
order,” Danielle mumbled, thumbing through the papers. There was nothing more
of 1925—or 1926—1927—1928 or 1929. She grabbed another book, hurriedly turning
the pages.
“Can I help you with something?” a male voice
asked. Danielle looked up into the blue gray eyes of the elderly docent who’d
greeted her at the front door when she had first arrived at the museum that
morning.
“I can’t find the rest of 1925—nothing
until 1930.”
“I’m afraid that’s all we have. There
was a fire back in…”
“Yes, I heard that. But I was told you
had copies of the old papers.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have a complete
collection—only what’s been donated. Every once in a while someone will come
across a missing edition and bring it in. But, I’m afraid everything we have is
in those books.”
“Darn. Now I know what it feels like
when you get to the end of a mystery novel and the last pages have been ripped
out. Except in this case, the book is out of print.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I can help you. I’m
pretty familiar with Frederickport history.” He took a seat at the table. “I’m
Ben Smith, by the way.” Danielle estimated he was in his eighties—very spry
eighties.
“Nice to meet you, Ben. I’m Danielle
Boatman. I just moved into Marlow House.”
“I heard someone moved in there. I was
so sorry to hear Brianna O’Malley had passed away. You must be her niece?”
“Actually, she was married to my
great-uncle. You knew her?”
“I can’t say I really knew her. But I
remember meeting her. She left quite an impression on me.”
“Can you tell me about it?” She hadn’t
expected to meet anyone in Frederickport who knew her aunt. According to Mr.
Renton, Brianna never visited Frederickport.
“It was right before the war. I must
have been about thirteen.” Ben smiled at the memory. “She was twenty-one at the
time, I remember because that’s why she was here. She’d just come into her
inheritance, and came to meet with my father.”
“I don’t understand. Your father?”
“He was her court appointed attorney.”
“Wait a minute…her court appointed
attorney? You say she came into her inheritance. Had her mother just died?”
“Her mother? No, Brianna was about five
or six when her mother died. Didn’t you know?”
“No. I really don’t know anything about Brianna’s
history. Mr. Renton didn’t seem to know much about it.”
“Renton, yes, I know him.” Ben didn’t
sound impressed.
“If Kathrine O’Malley died when my aunt
was five or six, that means she died not long after inheriting Marlow House.”
“That’s true.”
“I still don’t understand why Walt
Marlow’s widow didn’t inherit the house.”
“Because she preceded him.”
“She died before him?”
“From what I understand, yes. I never
knew the details. All that happened before I was born. To be honest, the only
reason I know as much as I do about your aunt is because I
Angela was still in Portland with her brother, how was it that he was in
Frederickport giving an interview?
When flipping through the newspaper
Danielle came across an editorial discussing the evils of alcohol, supporting
prohibition and citing Walt Marlow’s recent suicide as proof that alcohol
brings nothing but grief and destruction.
The next newspaper held a clue to
Danielle’s question. According to the third article, Roger had arrived in Frederickport
ten hours after George Hemming’s gruesome discovery. Why he was there the
article didn’t say; it only said that his sister was still in Portland and
couldn’t be reached.
“Why would Roger come to Frederickport
if his sister was supposedly visiting him in Portland?” Danielle whispered
aloud. Anxiously she turned to the next newspaper, hoping to find the answer.
To her disappointment the next paper skipped years ahead.
“Someone must have gotten these out of
order,” Danielle mumbled, thumbing through the papers. There was nothing more
of 1925—or 1926—1927—1928 or 1929. She grabbed another book, hurriedly turning
the pages.
“Can I help you with something?” a male voice
asked. Danielle looked up into the blue gray eyes of the elderly docent who’d
greeted her at the front door when she had first arrived at the museum that
morning.
“I can’t find the rest of 1925—nothing
until 1930.”
“I’m afraid that’s all we have. There
was a fire back in…”
“Yes, I heard that. But I was told you
had copies of the old papers.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have a complete
collection—only what’s been donated. Every once in a while someone will come
across a missing edition and bring it in. But, I’m afraid everything we have is
in those books.”
“Darn. Now I know what it feels like
when you get to the end of a mystery novel and the last pages have been ripped
out. Except in this case, the book is out of print.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I can help you. I’m
pretty familiar with Frederickport history.” He took a seat at the table. “I’m
Ben Smith, by the way.” Danielle estimated he was in his eighties—very spry
eighties.
“Nice to meet you, Ben. I’m Danielle
Boatman. I just moved into Marlow House.”
“I heard someone moved in there. I was
so sorry to hear Brianna O’Malley had passed away. You must be her niece?”
“Actually, she was married to my
great-uncle. You knew her?”
“I can’t say I really knew her. But I
remember meeting her. She left quite an impression on me.”
“Can you tell me about it?” She hadn’t
expected to meet anyone in Frederickport who knew her aunt. According to Mr.
Renton, Brianna never visited Frederickport.
“It was right before the war. I must
have been about thirteen.” Ben smiled at the memory. “She was twenty-one at the
time, I remember because that’s why she was here. She’d just come into her
inheritance, and came to meet with my father.”
“I don’t understand. Your father?”
“He was her court appointed attorney.”
“Wait a minute…her court appointed
attorney? You say she came into her inheritance. Had her mother just died?”
“Her mother? No, Brianna was about five
or six when her mother died. Didn’t you know?”
“No. I really don’t know anything about Brianna’s
history. Mr. Renton didn’t seem to know much about it.”
“Renton, yes, I know him.” Ben didn’t
sound impressed.
“If Kathrine O’Malley died when my aunt
was five or six, that means she died not long after inheriting Marlow House.”
“That’s true.”
“I still don’t understand why Walt
Marlow’s widow didn’t inherit the house.”
“Because she preceded him.”
“She died before him?”
“From what I understand, yes. I never
knew the details. All that happened before I was born. To be honest, the only
reason I know as much as I do about your aunt is because I
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