If Catfish Had Nine Lives (Country Cooking School Mystery)

by Paige Shelton

  “What?” everyone asked aloud—or just looked my direction with questioning eyes.

  “Nothing. Sorry.” I looked at Gram, who winked at me.

  “Okay, well, anyway,” Jake said, “I found this letter, and it led me to you, Jim.”

  “I got that. What’s it say?”

  “This is a letter written to your great-great-grandmother. It’s from her brother, Isaac. I don’t think she ever received it.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I found it with some other letters that were part of a group of letters that never got delivered. They were supposed to arrive in Broken Rope via the Pony Express, but something must have happened.”

  “Sounds feasible,” Jim said, and true to our prediction, he didn’t push for deeper answers.

  Jake cleared his throat and read the letter. I watched Jim. I watched Joe and his horse. The ghosts were mostly unmoving—in the stillest way a horse could be, I supposed. But Jim’s stern features surprisingly transformed. He’d been sitting back with his arms crossed in front of his chest, but he relaxed as Jake read. He sat forward and placed his arms on his desk. His crinkled forehead remained crinkled, but the crinkles became more curious than impatient.

  Jake finished the letter and folded the parchment. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. I shrugged. I didn’t know what was supposed to happen next either. Nothing had changed. The ghosts were the same, and Gram had started to inspect her fingernails.

  “I see,” Jim finally said after a long moment. “That’s very interesting, Jake.”

  “It is? I mean, yes, I agree that it’s interesting, but I’d love to know more. Have you ever heard anything about these people?”

  “I have, in fact.”

  That got everyone’s attention, including Gram’s. She looked up from her fingers.

  Jim smiled and then laughed a tiny bit—nothing jovial. Ironic, maybe.

  “Everyone wondered what happened to him. Isaac became the family story. No one knew that he might have traveled east to fight in the war, or even considered it. I guess if that letter had been received they would have at least known he was thinking about it, but the communication just stopped—long before that letter. He was labeled ‘the coward’ because he never wrote home and, as far as anyone knew, never went back to Georgia. Sadly, he became an embarrassment. Shoot, maybe he did fight in the war after all. No matter what, he must have died shortly after sending that letter.”

  “No one heard when he died, or where?” I said.

  “Don’t think so.”

  “I gotta say, I think it’s kind of amazing that you even know about him,” I said.

  “Some stories fade but don’t die, I suppose.” Jim smiled. “My dad would have loved to read that letter. He spent a few years trying to track down what happened to Isaac.”

  “I wish I would have found it sooner,” Jake said.

  “It’s just good to know it existed. At least he tried to let people know what he was thinking and that he might not make it home. Gosh, Jake, when you find these things, do you ever wonder how different life might be for lots of people if things never got lost or miscommunicated?”

  “All the time, Jim.”

  “I bet.”

  I looked at the ghosts and at Gram. Still, nothing changed. No one behaved differently, but I didn’t know if they were supposed to. We hadn’t discussed it that much.

  “Jim,” I said because I wanted to stall a little longer, just in case. “What do you think this will mean to your family now?”

  Jim blinked. “Just the knowledge changes everything a little. I doubt it will do much to transform our lives, but there’s a long history of not having an answer, of being embarrassed. Answers are good. Now the stories that are passed down have more satisfaction and less negativity attached to them. We didn’t know what happened to him, but now we have some idea that he tried to communicate.” He laughed. “It’s like there’s a punch line, a twist to the story, a happier ending. That’ll be fun.”

  “I like that,” I said.

  Jake looked at me as if to ask what he should do next. I didn’t know, so I looked at Gram. Jim decided for us.

  “That all?” he said.

  “I believe so,” Jake said.

  “Well, we need to get back to it, then,” Jim said. He’d had his moment of sentiment.

  “Got it.” Jake stood. Gram and I followed suit, and then she and I paraded out of the jail as Jake carefully refolded the fake letter, keeping the act going. Cliff and I shared a glance, but it was clear that he didn’t feel like he could take the time to talk to me privately or give me any new details. Hopefully later.

  “Well, should we check out the next letter? We still have time,” Gram said as she and I stood outside on the boardwalk. Joe and the horse were now in the middle of the street. “We can move to Jake’s archives. Joe, come on, bring the horse.”

  “So, that was it?” I said. “Was something else supposed to happen?”

  “Nope. Just moving on to the next letter.”

  “That’s a bit disappointing.”

  “I do think we’re getting closer to something happening though. Come on, let’s get into Jake’s.”

  Gram led the way across the street. Joe and the horse followed her.

  Jake was the last one out of the jail, and he stopped next to me as he watched Gram.

  “Did that do what it was supposed to do?” he asked.

  “Nothing happened, but I think so. I think all the letters have to be delivered before the ‘big thing’ happens. Gram wants to read the next one. She and the ghosts are going to your archives.”

  “I wish I could see that horse. Come on. I’d like to hear about the next letter.”

  The horse’s big body in the back room made me uncomfortable, so I asked if we could leave him in the front. I was certain the animal agreed with my plan as he focused his brown eyes on me. He blinked his long, mostly transparent lashes and briefly lifted one side of his mouth. Was he really trying to communicate something? Unless he started tapping Morse code with his hooves, I would probably never know. I doubted that even in their ghostly form could animals master a spoken language. I nodded at him just in case, though. At least he should know I was aware of his attempts at communication.

  “Two more, Miz,” Joe said with a bright smile. “Two more and I think everything will be taken care of.”

  Taken care of?

  Joe reached into the mochila, but stopped cold when he saw something on Jake’s table. I moved so I could see what had had such an effect. Joe was looking at Jake’s picture of Astin Reagal.

  “Who . . . who’s this?” Joe said.

  “Jake, Joe sees the picture of Astin. He’d like to know more about him. He’s standing right about here.” I pointed at Joe.

  “There’s a chance you knew him, Joe. He was a Pony Express rider, too. His name was Astin Reagal. He disappeared on the trail.”

  “I know,” Joe said.

  “He knows,” I said to Jake. “How do you know? Did you know him?” I said to Joe.

  Joe shook his head slowly as if to clear out some cobwebs. “I . . .” He looked up at Gram.

  “What is it, Joe?” she asked.

  “I knew him,” Joe repeated.

  “Right. How?” Gram asked as she peered at the picture through some reading glasses she’d put on.

  “I don’t think I should tell you,” Joe said. “Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  Joe shook his head some more.

  Gram sighed. “Okay, but when?”

  “Let’s get the last two letters delivered, and then I’ll tell you.”

  Gram looked at me and Jake. “Okay.”

  “Jake,” I said. “Joe somehow knew Astin but he doesn’t think he should tell us how until we get the last two letters delivered.”

  Jake blinked. “Well, that’s inconvenient.”

  That was the first I’d ever heard Jake say something less than flattering ab
out the ghosts.

  “I know, but it’s how they work,” I said.

  I wanted to protest, I wanted to bargain; I even wanted to threaten not to look at one other letter until Joe told us how he knew Astin. But it would have done absolutely no good. I would have made a ruckus and then Gram would have calmed me down and told me to go ahead and read the next letter.

  “Let’s get to it, then,” Jake said.

  “Could we dim the light, Jake?” Gram asked.

  “Certainly.” Jake hurried back to the switch on the wall and dimmed the light enough that the live humans could still see each other and the ghost became dimensional enough that I thought I’d be able to hold and read the letter without too much effort.

  Gram inspected Joe. He blinked away the trance that Astin’s picture had put him in.

  I tried not to be irritated by Joe’s unwillingness to tell us how he knew Astin Reagal. I tried to look at it a little differently; before that moment, we truly didn’t know that there was any connection between Joe and Astin. Now we knew. More would be revealed. And the coincidences actually might have more substance.

  “Here,” Joe said with a shaky voice as he handed me another envelope.

  I took it as Gram squinted at Joe, though she didn’t say anything. This letter was smaller than the first one and tinged more yellow.

  “Can you see the letter in my hands?” I asked Jake.

  “No.”

  I held it, noting its substance, though not its texture. “It doesn’t have a full address, just a name—Alicia Zavon—and Broken Rope. Wait, Alicia Zavon. I know that name. Jake?”

  “If it’s the Alicia Zavon I’m thinking of, and I bet it is—how many could there be?—then she’s definitely one of our legends. She killed her husband.”

  “Even I know this one,” I said. “Alicia Zavon and her husband were old—very old for the time. In their seventies, I think?”

  Jake nodded.

  I continued, “And one day she ‘up and got teered of him hittin’ on her with his fists,’ so she loaded up his shotgun, put it to his back and marched him downtown, and shot him in front of everyone.”

  “There’s more,” Jake said.

  We all, including Joe, looked at Jake.

  “Alicia fell victim to the town’s biggest legend. Her rope broke.”

  “Ah,” Gram said. “That’s such a bizarre occurrence, and it happened more frequently than I think anyone would have imagined. I don’t know if our ropes were poorly made or if we were just cursed to fail at hanging criminals.”

  “It’s said that Alicia roams the streets every Valentine’s Day, the day she was hung. Twice.” Jake said. He looked at Gram.

  “Oh. No, I’ve never met Alicia. I’d like to, though. I bet she was something else,” Gram said.

  “Let’s see what her letter says,” I said.

  I pulled the paper out of the envelope, unfolded it and read: “Dearest Mother, I just received your letter today and I must say that it has left me terribly frightened and concerned. Please don’t do anything rash. I know all about Daddy, but I also believe his cruelty is tied to his liquor. We knew to run away when he’d been drinking. Give me a chance to come home and see what I can do to help fix things. Please leave him if you need to, but please don’t do the dreadful thing you said you’re thinking of doing. You would break my heart and the hearts of my brother and sister. I’ll be there no later than February 16. I just need to get a few things put in order and make sure Harold and the girls can fend for themselves for a few weeks. All my love, Elizabeth.”

  For a long moment, we were all silent. The letter required some digestion.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Jake said.

  “Considering what happened, it’s probably not good that letter wasn’t delivered, but I suppose that’s one way legends are made,” Gram finally said.

  “True,” Jake said.

  “So what do we do with this one?” I asked. “I can’t imagine giving this information to anyone.”

  “It’s been a long time, Betts,” Gram said. “And we have to deliver it; there’s no question.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Miz,” Joe said.

  “I’ll be able to find a descendant easily. If I remember the story correctly, Elizabeth did come back to town, too late of course. But I don’t ever remember the stories mentioning that she sent a letter that her mother never received. Of course, like people dying or disappearing, that just happened back then. Letters didn’t always get delivered, or sometimes they were delayed by weather, illness, whatever. It wasn’t too much of a big deal.”

  “But Elizabeth probably went back to her family—Harold and the girls.”

  “No, she didn’t; that I know, too,” Jake said. “I don’t think they ever joined her in Broken Rope. I think she abandoned them.”

  “Like Astin Reagal’s wife?” I said. The story was still fresh in my mind.

  “No!” Joe exclaimed. “Astin’s wife didn’t leave him, did she?”

  “Not really—she abandoned her son to look for him, though,” I said.

  “I see.” Confusion rolled over Joe’s face, but only for an instant.

  “What is it, Joe?” Gram asked.

  “Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m . . . I’m not sure. Maybe we’re just getting closer to the end of the letters. It seems like I’m remembering things. But not big things—just little unimportant things that bother me. I’m fine. Ignore me.”

  I turned to Jake. “How quickly can you find a descendant? I’m sensing that it would be good to find one as fast as possible.”

  “Why don’t you and Miz run down to Bunny’s for lunch and I’ll see what I can put together. I’ll call or join you. The ghosts are welcome to stay, of course.”

  No one stayed with Jake as he got to work with his fast fingers over his computer keyboard. Gram led the way to Bunny’s, which was located at the end of the main thoroughfare. I followed her, and then Joe and his horse trotted behind.

  Gram and I didn’t notice it until we arrived at Bunny’s and his wood smoke scent became strong, but Jerome had joined us, too. He had followed behind the horse.

  “Hello, Jerome,” Gram said when he moved to the front of the line. She looked at me, and then at him again.

  “Miz, always good to see you.”

  “You, too, but you sure do seem to be visiting a lot.”

  “I’m working on it,” I interjected, answering Gram’s tone and unspoken words about both Jerome’s and my behavior during those visits. Gram and Jerome both knew that I was working on figuring out how to keep my friendship with Jerome strictly friendly, not romantic. I didn’t sense that Jerome wanted to work on the same issues from his end, but he didn’t have another significant other to think about. How we managed whatever relationship we were destined to have, the details would be up to me.

  “Well, that’s a good start.” Gram sighed and pulled the door open. “Shall we go in?”

  Chapter 15

  “Joe’s sticking close by,” I said as I looked out Bunny’s Restaurant’s large front window. Joe was pacing. The horse was still, almost eerily so. Earlier, I’d felt a slight breeze, but the horse’s tail and mane were motionless. Every now and then I saw his eyes blink, but his head didn’t move much.

  “He’s in a hurry to get the letters delivered,” Gram said as she looked out, too.

  “I can only imagine what it would be like to know that your task list—potentially your last task list—is almost done. He seems to think the outcome will be something positive. I hope so.”

  “I hope so, too. I really do, Betts. But it won’t be terrible if you and I don’t have to figure out what to do about the letters anymore. So far you might have found it interesting, but it does get a little tiresome.”

  “You like him, though, don’t you?”

  “To be honest, I don’t know if I like him as much as I think he’s just a kid, and one who’s alone. Gent had his family. There aren’t many younger ghosts. I don’t mind the
adults being confused and alone so much. Joe has always seemed so . . . lost.”

  I should have figured that out. Gram was great at being a grandmother.

  “He was pretty adamant about not coming inside,” Jerome said.

  At first, Bunny had sat Gram and me in a small two-person booth, but we’d asked for something bigger. Bunny had pinched her lips—making her mustache bristle—and then showed us to a bigger booth. I sat on one side of the booth and Jerome and Gram sat on the other.

  “I know,” Gram said. “He seemed like he didn’t like you, Jerome. You lived long after his time. He couldn’t have known you. Maybe you just rubbed him the wrong way. Ghost envy.”

  “I’ve never met him before. Didn’t get a good look at him this time. He didn’t look at me. Never trust a man who won’t look you in the eye,” Jerome said.

  I twisted slightly and looked out the front windows again. Jerome was right; for whatever reason, Joe hadn’t wanted to look him in the eye. Even I’d noticed. “Gram, are you sure Joe has never been able to recall his last name?”

  “No. He doesn’t know. Or, I suppose, he has never wanted to tell me. I guess I don’t know which.”

  I wondered again if Jake had a way of looking up all the Pony Express riders who had, in fact, gone missing, and if there was one with the first name of Joe, or Joseph or Joey, on the list. Something wasn’t right about Joe, although—and I had to remember this—they were ghosts, and the biggest thing that wasn’t right about all of them was that they were dead. Presumably, this symptom could cause a number of other strange, potentially unexplainable occurrences. I shook off the wonky feeling and decided to think about it later.

  “Gram,” I said as I turned around. “Jerome found Astin Reagal’s remains, back when Jerome was alive.”

  “Really? That’s pretty big news, I would think. Where are his remains?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve been searching, but it’s been a long time.”

  “Where were you searching?”

  “Out by what used to be my property, on the way to Rolla, about a mile or two out of Broken Rope. At least, I’m almost certain that’s the area where I found his skeleton before.”