The Ghost Who Dream Hopped (eBook)

Ebooks are delivered instantly by link in your confirmation email (and as a backup, also by email from our delivery partner, Bookfunnel).

You can read the ebooks on any ereader (Amazon, Kobo, Nook), your tablet, phone, computer, and/or in the free Bookfunnel app.

The Ghost Who Dream Hopped

Chapter 1

Danielle Boatman curled up under the blankets and closed her eyes. The last five weeks had been emotionally draining. It had begun with Clint Marlow’s unpleasant stay at Marlow House and then the car accident, which had claimed the life of Clint’s fiancée and had left him in a coma.

From there things veered into the twilight zone. Now when she woke up each morning, the first thing she asked herself—was it all real? A week after the fateful accident it was Walt whom she had brought home from the hospital. Walt in his cousin Clint’s body. She was still surprised when she realized it hadn’t been a dream.

Danielle had foolishly imagined they would have a week or so to ease into their new reality without bed-and-breakfast guests underfoot. What she hadn’t counted on was what had happened after Walt came home. In the span of one week Marlow House had been broken into three times. There had been two murders—one that took place under her roof—and she and Walt almost got locked into a crate and set on fire.

But now all the guilty parties were behind bars—or under surveillance, and they had a couple of days left before the next round of bed-and-breakfast guests arrived. She was determined to get a good night’s sleep so she and Walt could enjoy a few quiet days together.

Restless, Danielle sat up briefly and rearranged her pillow, giving it several quick punches to reform its shape. Just before setting her head back on the pillow, she hugged a second one and turned to her right side. Pulling up her knees, she curled into a fetal position.

The room was not totally dark. Light from the near full moon slipped in through the partially open blinds. Max slept on the foot of the bed. Danielle could hear him snoring. Closing her eyes, she let out a sigh and tried to clear her mind. All she wanted to do was sleep. It took only minutes before she accomplished her goal.

Danielle had been asleep for not more than ten minutes when her eyes flew open. She was no longer in the comfort of her bed but sitting outside on the edge of her roof, looking over her side yard while the full moon lit the night sky.

“This can’t be happening,” Danielle groaned.

“It’s a dream. You’re perfectly safe.”

She turned toward the voice and found a man sitting next to her on the edge of the roof. She recognized him immediately. It had been about a year since she had last seen him, and he hadn’t changed. Of course, the last time she had seen him had been shortly after his death, and spirits only aged if they wanted to. Considering Steve Klein’s hair was not gray—as was his natural color—it was obvious he dyed his hair in the afterlife, as he had when he had been alive. Although technically speaking, Danielle didn’t think he actually dyed his hair—more that he willed it a darker shade.

At death he had been in his early fifties and the manager of the local bank. He had left behind his widow, Beverly, and two grown children. He had also left behind his most recent mistress, Carla, the waitress who worked at Pier Café. While it wasn’t exactly common knowledge that Steve was a serial cheater, Danielle knew.

She reminded herself that Steve had always been nice to her. And thankfully, he had never hit on her, for which she was grateful. But she was trying to figure out why he had come to her in a dream hop. She had no doubt this was a dream hop.

“Steve, what are you doing here?”

He smiled at her. “Hello, Danielle. Surprised to see me?”

“You could say that. Why are you here?”

Steve laughed. “You know what this is, don’t you?”

“Yes. A dream hop. But why?”

“Dream hop?” He smiled again. “I like that. Did you come up with that term?”

“Yes. Ghostly antics don’t come with a guidebook. I have to call them something.”

“I’m no longer a ghost. I moved on a long time ago,” Steve explained. “But I heard through the grapevine that the ghost who was living at Marlow House took up residence in his cousin’s body. How is that working out?”

“How did you know that?” Danielle asked.

Steve shrugged. “Once you get settled on the other side, it’s amazing what you find out. But I can’t get into that. Against the rules, you know. So how’s it working for him?”

“Did you just pop in to find out about Walt?”

Steve leaned back lazily, his elbows resting against the shingles. “Don’t you think it would be rather rude to jump into someone’s dream after not seeing her for a year and just come out and ask her for a favor? I just thought I’d ask a few polite questions about Walt Marlow—break the ice, so to speak—before I tell you why I’m here.”

Narrowing her eyes, Danielle studied Steve for a moment. Finally, she said, “Walt’s doing fine. Thank you for asking. Now what is it you want from me?”

“I need you to help me convince Beverly to admit what she did. I understand I brought this on myself. I wasn’t the best of husbands. But she needs to take responsibility for her actions.”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

Steve sat up and turned to Danielle. “I forgot, you don’t know.”

“I don’t know what?”

“Beverly. She was the one responsible for putting crabmeat in my tamales. My wife killed me.”

Danielle’s eyes widened. “No, Baron Huxley put the crabmeat into your tamales!”

Steve shook his head. “No, he didn’t. Baron did a lot of unscrupulous things in his life—which he is still paying for—but killing me wasn’t one of them.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. To Bev’s credit, she never intended to kill me. She just wanted to punish me for my…well…I wasn’t the most loyal of husbands.”

“No. You weren’t.”

“And haven’t I paid for it? Just look at me.” Steve’s hands gestured toward his chest. “I’m dead. Cut down in my prime. Fell off a pier. Most undignified. All because of some crabmeat and an unfortunate tumble into the ocean.”

“How do you know it was Beverly?”

“I just know. Trust me on this.”

“Why now? You’ve been dead for a year.”

“I didn’t figure it out until recently. When I finally confirmed it, I knew what I had to do. It’s for Bev’s own good.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to help me convince her to go to the police. Confess her crime. It wasn’t premeditated murder or anything, so she’ll probably just spend a little time behind bars.”

Danielle frowned. “Seriously? You expect me to do that?”

“Of course.” Steve flashed Danielle a smile.

“Why me?”

“For one thing, you’re the only one I know who I could visit like this and wouldn’t just assume this was an ordinary dream.”

“Why don’t you visit Beverly in a dream and convince her to turn herself in,” Danielle suggested.

“I intend to do that. But I still need you.”

“I don’t understand why.” Danielle didn’t think it was possible to push Steve off the roof, but if it was, she was sorely tempted to give him a shove. He was messing up her plans for a restful night’s sleep.

“If I visit Beverly alone, she’ll just wake up the next morning believing she had a dream about me. A guilt dream. Doesn’t mean she’ll actually do anything about it.”

“So how do I figure in?”

“After you wake up in the morning, you can call Beverly. Tell her you need to talk to her. And when you do, you can tell her what you know about the dream—about what she did. After you explain, she’ll understand it wasn’t an ordinary dream, that I really did visit her, and she’ll realize she has to turn herself in to the police.”

Before Danielle could respond, the moon flickered and another person appeared on the other side of Steve. It was more a silhouette, and Danielle couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman. She leaned forward to get a better look, peering across Steve’s body—or the illusion of his body. As she eyed the shadowy figure, the moon shifted slightly, casting light over the new arrival. It reminded Danielle of how a spotlight in a theater transforms a faceless actor into a pivotal character onstage, putting the performer front and center. The new arrival was Beverly. She wore a nightgown, and she was obviously confused.

“Where am I?” Beverly muttered. She glanced around and let out a curse when she realized she was sitting on a rooftop. Momentarily panicked, she tried scooting backward, away from the edge, her feet bare, and her nightgown hiking up along the calves of her legs.

“Relax, Beverly, it’s a dream,” Danielle told her. “You’re safe.”

Beverly turned toward Danielle’s voice but found herself looking into the face of her dead husband.

“Steve?” she gasped. Her gaze moved over Steve’s shoulder. She spied Danielle sitting on the other side of him on the rooftop. Danielle leaned forward and gave her a nervous wave.

“Hello, Bev. Happy to see me?” Steve asked with a grin.

Beverly glared at Steve. “Not particularly.”

Danielle grimaced at Beverly’s reply.

“It’s been a year, Bev. Don’t you miss me?” he asked gently.

“Why are you here?” Beverly asked.

“I know what you did. So does Danielle. You put crabmeat in my tamales and then removed my epinephrine auto-injector from my tackle box.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Beverly reminded him.

“I’m here to explain that you need to turn yourself in to the police.”

Danielle tried pinching herself. She wanted to wake up. She didn’t want to be here.

“Why would I do that?” Beverly frowned.

“Because you did something wrong. You need to take responsibility.”

When the pinch didn’t work, Danielle leaned toward the edge of the rooftop and wondered what would happen if she jumped. Would that wake her up?

“Like you took responsibility each time you cheated on me?”

“I was wrong; I know that now,” Steve said, his voice annoyingly calm. “This is for your own good.”

To Danielle’s ears it sounded as if he were attempting to reason with a child. She wondered if he had always spoken to Beverly like that. If he had, she wondered why Beverly hadn’t slipped him crabmeat sooner.

Steve turned to Danielle and said, “Tell her, Danielle. Explain to her why she needs to go to the police.”

Danielle shrugged uncomfortably. “I hate to get between a husband and wife. This really is between the two of you to work out.”

Beverly leaned forward and looked across Steve to Danielle. “Thank you. I’m glad you see it that way.”

Danielle flashed Beverly a weak smile and then contemplated screaming. She had learned how to make herself scream when sleeping. It was one way to jerk herself from a dream hop. But then she remembered Max sleeping on the foot of her bed. Would the scream scare the cat and send him charging downstairs to wake Walt?

“Bev, please, listen to me. You need to do this. It’s for your own good,” Steve insisted.

“I don’t have to do anything you say. You’re dead.” Beverly grinned at him.

“Certainly you regret what you did?” Steve asked.

Beverly shrugged. “Not particularly. It all worked out rather well.”

“Listen to me,” Steve said impatiently.

Before Steve could say another word, Beverly reached out and gave him a quick shove. He let out a scream as he tumbled off the roof, disappearing before he hit the ground.

Both Danielle and Beverly leaned forward and looked down. Danielle’s eyes widened in surprise while Beverly grinned happily at how easily she had dispensed of her husband—for the second time.

“I didn’t know that was possible,” Danielle muttered under her breath.

“You didn’t know what was possible?” Beverly asked.

“To push him off the roof like that.”

“I don’t see why not.” Beverly turned her full attention to Danielle and gave her a smile—a smile that didn’t make Danielle particularly comfortable. She looked warily at Beverly.

“I suppose I have to do something about you,” Beverly said with a sigh.

“Umm…what do you mean?”

“I certainly can’t have you blabbing now that you know my secret.”

Before she could ask Beverly what she meant, the woman reached out and gave her a push, sending her tumbling off the rooftop.

* * *
Danielle woke up on the floor next to her bed, tangled in her blankets. She looked up and spied Max peering down at her from the edge of the mattress. When their eyes met, he let out a meow. With a groan she stumbled to her feet while picking up her blankets off the floor.

“I wish I could say it was just a nightmare, Max.”