If Catfish Had Nine Lives (Country Cooking School Mystery)

by Paige Shelton

  “You think it was Astin Reagal?” I asked.

  Jerome nodded. “I do now. At the time, I tried to forget it. But later on, I searched, out of curiosity more than any other reason. I didn’t find anything in the area where I thought I saw the man, but farther out, more toward where the path had been and the road was, I did find something. This all happened close to the time I died, and there were so many other things that were more important that I didn’t have an opportunity to tell anyone but Elsa what I’d found. And she wasn’t interested in the least. She was with child and not feeling well. She couldn’t have cared less about the remains of a long-dead man, even if they’d been in her own house and haunting her personally.”

  I looked up into the mirror again. I’d seen pain cross his face before, but his current memory of Elsa might have caused him to feel a whole new level of anguish. Even though he was so transparent, it hurt him deeply to experience those memories, and I could see it.

  “I think I came back this time just so I could help find the remains again,” Jerome said. “I understand that some other strange things have happened—a Pony Express ghost and a descendant of Astin Reagal in town, and now a visit by Astin too. Perhaps one thing is spurring on another, I don’t know.”

  “That’s possible.”

  “I wonder if all your ghosts were also haunted when they were alive. I’m not sure what that might mean, but it might be something you have to contend with at some point.”

  “Good question. Maybe I’ll start asking.”

  “Stop here.” Jerome seemed to need to gather himself for a moment. “Look for the trees that make a heart. Let’s go find Astin,” he finally said.

  “Look for the trees that make a heart, Jake,” I said. “Point us in the right direction, Jerome, and we’ll take credit for the discovery. Okay, I’ll let Jake take the credit.”

  We were out in the middle of nowhere; the road I’d stopped on was not used anymore, and was now a wide dirt path. Where there were woods, they were thick woods, and any open space had tall grasses sprouting from uneven ground. Jake and I both walked slowly over the tangled and bumpy earth.

  “Almost there?” I asked after only a few ankle-twisting minutes.

  “Just up ahead. There’s no place for an automobile, but we’re not far now.”

  Jake had the small shovel from my trunk over his shoulder, and I was carrying a couple partly full water bottles that had been rolling around on the backseat. I’d told Jake what Jerome had said about being haunted and he’d responded with his normal thoughtful interest.

  It was still spring enough that the Missouri giant prehistoric bugs—my description—hadn’t come out of their hiding places yet. The journey wasn’t completely bug-free, but nothing I saw made me question evolution.

  Without much warning, we were suddenly in a wide clearing that was covered more in short weeds than tall grasses.

  “There, past that bunch of trees was my farm.” Jerome pointed.

  I shaded my eyes with my hand and peered through the trees. There was another clearing on the other side of them. The remains of an old small house still stood, its nubby corners the only things left.

  “Jerome’s farm was over there,” I said to Jake.

  “That was a ways out from town.”

  “Were those things part of your house?” I asked.

  “I think so,” Jerome said. “I don’t know what happened to the place after I died. Miz might be able to answer that better than I can.”

  I tried to imagine Jerome there, standing in front of a house or a cabin, or perhaps plowing the earth or wrangling cattle. The mental pictures were clear. He’d never fit into my own time, and “seeing” him there, on his land, was easy and almost expected.

  “That’s kind of cool,” Jake said. “We’ll explore it sometime.”

  “I’d like that,” I said.

  “But for now, are those the heart trees he was talking about?” Jake pointed to the far right of the cabin remains.

  “Yes,” Jerome said.

  “Affirmative,” I said.

  Jake led the way again and we stepped over rocks and earth until we finally stopped by the trees. The branches of two different trees had bent and come together so symmetrically that they did, indeed, resemble the shape of a Valentine heart.

  “Right there.” Jerome pointed at the ground at the bottom of the heart. “I think that’s something.”

  “Here,” I pointed for Jake.

  Jake and I crouched. Mostly we just saw ground, but there was something else. Maybe. Something about three inches wide stuck out of the dirt. It was too uniformly shaped and sized to be something organic, but it was also too heavily caked in dirt to be recognizable.

  I grabbed the item and rubbed it with my thumb. Only a few seconds later it became clear that we’d found what was probably a leather flap.

  “What should we do?” I asked Jake.

  He sat back on his heels and inspected the space.

  “Probably nothing. We should probably contact the authorities. I imagine you think we’ve found the same thing I think we’ve found.”

  “A mochila? Probably Astin Reagal’s?”

  “Yep, we’re on the same wavelength. And if his mochila is around here, maybe so are his bones.”

  “You’re not going to look more closely?” Jerome asked.

  I paraphrased. “Jerome thinks we should dig and explore.”

  “I do,” Jerome said.

  “We’ll be careful,” Jake said.

  It hadn’t taken much to convince him.

  Jake moved slowly and carefully as he put the tip of the small shovel into the ground. He dug up only a little bit of dirt at a time, moving it aside with care and reverence. I would have moved much more quickly and with much less care, but his respect for history was even bigger than his curiosity. I bit back my desire to tell him to hurry, but Jerome and I did share a weary look or two.

  “I’m not seeing any bones,” Jake said when the pocket seemed to be almost fully uncovered.

  “But I’m sure that’s the pocket to a mochila,” I said.

  “Me, too. Should I keep digging?” Jake said.

  “Sure,” I said. “It might have nothing to do with Astin Reagal.”

  Jake looked at me with one lifted eyebrow.

  “I know, it’s probably his, but even if there were bones, it’s been so long, maybe there’d be nothing they could tell us,” I said, but I truly had no idea what I was talking about. I wasn’t sure what long-lost bones could and couldn’t tell anyone. I just wanted Jake to keep digging.

  “I think we’re curious enough not to care too much. I’ll still be careful, but the rest of whatever is attached to the flap is straight down. I’ll just dig that way, try to keep from digging too wide.”

  “Sounds great,” I said.

  “It’d be good to get on with it,” Jerome said. “My goodness, I’m dead, and even I’m getting a little tired.”

  I smiled but didn’t say anything.

  True to his word, Jake had the rest of the mochila out of the dirt in another half an hour. It was well caked in grime, but it was clear that the case had been much better preserved than the flap. Even with the layer of dirt, the leather of the case was darker than the faded part of the flap that must have been exposed to the elements for a long time.

  Jake sat the freed mochila on a clear patch of ground and ran his hand over it.

  “It’s amazing. Betts—and Jerome—this is a real part of history. Not just words, but an actual artifact.”

  “I think we should open the pockets,” I said. I was much less impressed by the old item, but I did appreciate Jake’s point of view. But still, I wanted to see what was inside.

  “Okay.” Jake placed his hand on the flap. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose.

  Jerome smiled at me.

  Jake lifted the first flap and a dirty dust cloud puffed around the mochila. He held the satchel up and peered inside. He di
d the same with the other pockets. A moment later he looked at me.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” I said as I reached for the mochila.

  “Absolutely nothing.”

  I peered inside, too. Jake was correct. There was nothing in the case. It was empty except for a few grains of dirt. The inside had, of course, been even better preserved than the outside, but some bits of its surrounding burial place had found their way into the pockets.

  “Do you think some letters might have fallen out?” I said as I leaned over and looked into the hole.

  “I doubt it. But think about it, Betts. If he was on his way home, he might not have had anything to deliver. After he made his run, there might not have been anything for him to bring back. Not as much junk mail back then. It’s conceivable that no one in Broken Rope had a letter coming to them.”

  “I suppose.” I put the mochila back on the ground and closed the flaps. I tried to look for markings like those on the mochila in Jake’s archives, but there were none currently visible. There might be some, but it would take a careful cleaning to find them. This was probably more evidence that Joe wasn’t Astin Reagal. Joe’s bag had letters. If this was truly Astin’s, the real incarnations of the ghostly letters were nowhere to be found. Even considering that inconsistency, though, as well as Astin’s appearance the night before, a small part of me couldn’t let go of the notion that they might be the same person.

  I looked at Jerome. “What else, Jerome? What else should we do? Dig some more, look for bones?”

  “Well,” Jake said, jumping in before Jerome could answer, “I don’t think we should do much more than take this back to town. I can get experts with the proper equipment out here to look for any remains. This find in itself will be enough to get the proper authorities quickly involved.”

  “All right,” Jerome said, but I could hear disappointment in his voice.

  “We’ll find him if he’s here, Jerome, but Jake’s right. We don’t have the proper equipment, and I don’t want to do anything that might harm evidence that could help us better understand what happened to Astin.”

  “I understand,” Jerome said with a little less disappointment.

  “I think it’d be great to show this to Esther,” Jake said. “She’ll be beyond thrilled.”

  “Let’s take it to her right now,” I said.

  We stood and Jake held the mochila out as he inspected it again.

  “This is an amazing find, Jerome,” he said to no space in particular. “I’m sure this will lead to Astin’s remains. We just have to get the right people out here to look.”

  Jerome nodded.

  “He understands,” I said. “Come on, let’s get back to town.”

  I carried the shovel so Jake could be extra diligent as he carried the mochila. Jerome looked back to the spot we’d been digging as we made our way back to the Nova. I looked, too. Had our discovery also uncovered a ghost? It didn’t work that way as far as I knew, but nothing would surprise me.

  No new ghosts appeared, though. There was no sense that anything unusual stirred the air. There was no new smell.

  My last look behind was at the house’s remains. I knew there was nothing to find there, but I also knew I’d come back out and explore the posts and the overgrown weeds. Would I find something of Jerome’s? It was unlikely, but I needed to look for myself. Not today, though. There was plenty of other business to attend to today.

  Chapter 26

  “I’m thrilled that you might have found Astin, Betts, and I’m glad Jerome hasn’t left, but Orly called and wants me to come out to the campsite. He wants to show me something,” Gram said.

  “Something about what?” I readjusted the cell phone so I could hear her better.

  “I don’t know. That’s all he told me—something.”

  “Gram, Jake and I were out there earlier. I had a strange hunch and asked him about owning a .38 Special—that’s the kind of gun that killed Norman. He said that one potentially went missing from his truck. I told him to call the police. Don’t go out alone. Wait—Jake and I will meet you out there. Give us about ten minutes before you leave,” I said in quick-speed staccato. My foot pressed harder on the accelerator as my words became more hurried.

  “That’s fine. I’ll see you there,” Gram said before she hung up.

  “Why would Orly want to talk to Gram?” I said as I put down the phone. Jerome was in the backseat and Jake was double-checking that his seat belt was secure.

  “Didn’t it seem like Orly kind of liked Miz?” Jake asked.

  “Well, maybe, but his timing bothers me,” I said. “We’re going back out there.”

  “And, apparently, we’re going to break all speed records to get there,” Jake said.

  I handed my phone to Jake. “Here, hit the button for Cliff. Please.”

  Jake did as I asked and I took the phone back. Cliff’s voice mail picked up again after only one ring.

  “Hey, meet me at the convention campsite if you get this before nine or so. Thanks.” I hung up.

  “The campsite is well populated, Betts. Miz will be fine,” Jake said.

  “I guess I’m overreacting a little bit, but something’s not right.”

  “Maybe,” Jake said. “What could go wrong, though? Miz will be careful; extra careful after your call. There are lots of people around all the time.”

  “If there are always so many people around, how did Teddy get beaten up without any witnesses?” I said.

  “Good point.” Jake pulled out his own phone and pressed a couple buttons. “Hi, Jenny, it’s Jake Swanson. Yes, I’m fine. I’m just wondering if there’s a quick way to get a hold of Jim, or maybe Cliff Sebastian. Sure. Yes, actually, if you could just ask one of them to call me, that would be perfect. Thank you. Uh-huh. Thanks again. ’Bye.”

  “Was that Jenny, the dispatcher?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know her?” I said.

  “Everyone knows her.”

  “I mean, you’ve seen her in person?”

  “I’ve had coffee with her. She’s a sweet lady.”

  “She’s a terrible police dispatcher. And I don’t even know what she looks like,” I said. I’d never met her, but I’d come to know her through her dispatch position. Recently, she’d failed more than once to get a message I’d called in to the police in a timely manner. Gram disagreed with my poor opinion of her. Apparently, so did Jake.

  “How is that—”

  “Isabelle!” Jerome said from the backseat.

  I stepped hard on the brake pedal. The Nova did stop, but first its tires squealed and slid. Fortunately, all wheels stayed on the road, though before we came to a safe halt, the car was at a ninety-degree angle from where it should have been.

  “What happened?” Jake said.

  “In the road. Joe and his horse are in the road. I’m sorry, Jake. I couldn’t have hurt them, but I was so surprised. I forgot they were ghosts.”

  “We almost joined them,” Jake said.

  “Sorry. You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “I’m going to go see what he wants. I’ll be right back,” I said.

  I got out of the car with shaky legs and a too-rapid pulse.

  “There might have been a better way to let me know you wanted to talk to me, a better way to reappear. Just showing up in the middle of the road isn’t the best idea.”

  “You found Astin?” Joe said, ignoring my admonition.

  “Maybe. We found a mochila, and we suspect that Astin’s remains are in the general vicinity.”

  “Take me to him,” Joe said.

  “I will. Later. I need to get to Gram right now.”

  “No, Betts. Now.”

  I blinked. “No, Joe, not now. I’ve got to get to Gram.” I turned and went back to my car.

  “Stupid ghosts,” I muttered to Jake. “Sorry, Jerome,” I said to the rearview mirror.

  “What’s wrong, Isabelle?” Jerome asked.

 
; “Joe wants to be taken to Astin, right away.”

  “I can take him,” Jerome said. “No. No, I can’t. I think I’d better stay with you, Isabelle.”

  I looked in the mirror.

  “You can’t-can’t, or don’t want to?”

  “I can’t,” he said.

  “That means my life might be in danger?” I said.

  “Betts, tell me what’s happening,” Jake said.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “Jerome?”

  “I don’t know, Isabelle. I just know I need to stay with you.”

  “Let’s go,” I said as I turned the key.

  Nothing happened.

  I turned the key again. Nothing. Not even the click of a dead battery.

  “Betts?” Jake said.

  I peered out my side window at Joe, who sat tall on his horse and looked at me with firm distaste. I was beginning to really not like this ghost—well, even more than I hadn’t liked him before.

  “Can you guys make cars not start?” I asked Jerome.

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  I got out again and hurried to the ghostly form.

  “Have you done something to the Nova? Is that even possible?”

  “I’ve waited a long time to find Astin’s remains, Betts. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

  “Who are you? Tell me why you need to find him so badly,” I said. I was fuming, literally breathing too heavy for my own good. I was about to prove whether or not smoke could truly come out of ears.

  Joe’s face softened. “I can’t tell you. It’s part of . . . I don’t know, maybe it’s part of my punishment. I don’t understand it, but I know I have to find him. Once I do, the last letter will be complete and things will be set right. For him, too. I just know.”

  “Were you responsible for his death? Did you kill him?” I said.

  “No, Betts, I would never have killed him.”

  “Listen,” I said. “You’re dead, he’s dead. I’m sorry to have only a little sympathy for that situation, but I’m worried about Gram. She might be in danger, Joe. Come on, whatever you’ve done to my car, undo it. Now. I promise we’ll attend to Astin the second I know Gram is safe. She’s been there for you for years. You owe her . . . holy cow, Joe, you owe her everything. Without her, you wouldn’t have been able to do anything about any of the letters. You can’t let me abandon her. You can’t abandon her!”