“Katz, confidentially, the legend is good for the town’s economy. The romantic notion of a high school basketball legend dying in Vietnam and coming back to search for his lost love,” Marcia stopped, and pointed at herself, “lost love being me . . . It appeals to tourists, making them want to visit the town.”
“This is true, and when they visit, they also spend money at the local businesses.”
Marcia sat up straight in the swing, turned and faced Katherine, “We don’t want to start our married life under these circumstances.”
Katherine put up her hand in the stop motion. “What? Married? When?” She smiled.
Marcia grinned. “Yes, dear, we are, but not in Indiana. After Evan gets his prosthetic eye, we’re heading to New Mexico. Instead of buying property at Peace Lake and building there, as I intended, I’ve bought a house in a small town outside Santa Fe.”
Recovering from shock, Katherine said, “Congratulations! I’m happy for the two of you. When are you moving?”
“We haven’t decided yet, but we’ll let you know.” Marcia started to get up. “I’ve got a million errands to do before I drive back to the cabin. I’ll keep in touch.”
Katherine walked Marcia to her car, and waved as she drove away. She thought it was probably a good idea for Evan to leave Peace Lake. Who knows how many townspeople would be affected by the exposure of a bogus ghost story. Katherine knew in her heart that the couple needed to move where no one knew Evan’s history. But she’d grown very fond of Evan, who treated her like a daughter. She brushed a tear from her cheek. She’d miss him terribly.
***
Jacky, Colleen’s brother, and Katherine’s long-time friend from Manhattan, drove erratically down the long driveway to the pink mansion, and nearly collided with a limestone column supporting the carport roof. A few minutes before, he’d texted Katherine and told her he’d arrived, rented a car from the Indy airport, and was now in town. He didn’t tell her that he’d been in Erie for several hours, and been drinking a few pints at the Erie Hotel bar.
Stevie Sanders walked out of Mrs. Harper’s back door, and headed to his truck. He fished a pack of cigarettes out of his canvas work shirt pocket, and lit one with a Bic lighter. Jacky nearly hit Stevie’s truck when he parked. Stevie leaned against his tailgate and scowled.
Waiting outside the classroom door, Katherine observed Jacky’s reckless driving, and also observed Stevie not being very happy. She worried that there might be an altercation; she hoped not.
Jacky, oblivious to how close he’d come to hitting Stevie’s truck, got out of his rental car and ran over to Katherine. He picked her up and twirled her around, but instead of setting her back on the ground, he prolonged the hug. Katherine became uncomfortable, and pulled away.
“Did you make good time?” she asked.
“I have to say it was a bit turbulent, but the plane didn’t crash.” He winked, his green eyes narrowed in a flirtatious look.
Katherine smelled the liquor on his breath, and stepped back. “Do you want me to drive you to my guest house, so you can settle into your room before dinner?”
“I didn’t know anything about a dinner.”
“Oh, tonight Mum’s throwing a dinner party in your honor. She’s cooking lamb chops — your favorite. She’s invited Daryl and Colleen, and Jake and me.”
“I already told Mum I’m not stayin’ with a bunch of noisy women. I rented me a room at the downtown hotel. I thought I’d get over here, so you wouldn’t forget about me.”
Katherine glanced uneasily over at Stevie, who continued leaning against his truck. He fished out a second cigarette, and lit it. She was becoming more uncomfortable standing next to Jacky, who was obviously intoxicated. She had serious reservations about inviting him inside.
It doesn’t make any sense, she thought. When Mum needed help with her drinking problem, Jacky was instrumental in getting her to a specialist. Yet here he is — drunker than a skunk.
For want of something better to say, Katherine began, “You heard about my wrecking my SUV.”
“I have to say I was a bit concerned.” Jacky moved in fast and grabbed Katherine around the waist. He pulled her into a kiss.
Startled, Katherine struggled to move away. “Are you crazy? What are you doing?”
“I’m kissin’ ya,” Jacky said with a big grin on his face.
“Not happening,” she said, her voice now loud with irritation. “I’m marrying Jake.”
“Really?” he asked, with green eyes flashing. “Couples break up every day.” He leaned in for another kiss.
Katherine retreated several feet. “Stop it, right now! I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”
“It’s simple, love. You’re goin’ dump that Indiana hillbilly, and marry me. I’m sick of waitin’ in the wings.”
Katherine was speechless, and then spoke, “Jacky, you are my friend — ”
Jacky put up his right hand. “Stop preachin’. We were a couple until that Gary DeSutter bastard showed up. Look where that got ya?”
“Got me?” Katherine asked incredulously. “Gary dumped me for another woman, and then he was murdered in my house. Jacky, let me drive you back to the hotel.”
Stevie came over and said to Jacky, “Hey, buddy, the lady doesn’t want to talk to ya anymore, so you best git goin’.” He had a tough expression on his face.
Jacky glared at Stevie, returning the menacing look. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m a man who doesn’t talk to a lady that way.”
“You need to mind your own business.”
Katherine intervened. “Jacky, you can’t drive. Give me your keys?”
“Like hell,” he said. “I’ll walk to Mum’s. Hey, Katz, where is it — your guest house?”
Katherine said with resignation, “I’ll take you. I wanted to show you my new SUV anyway.”
Stevie said, “Ma’am, you sure?”
“Thanks, Stevie, but I’m good.”
Stevie walked back to his truck and watched until Katherine and Jacky drove away.
Chapter Six
The next day, Katherine climbed in her black Subaru Outback and drove to the Erie County Courthouse on the edge of town. She passed the Red House Diner, and snickered at the crowded parking lot full of pickup trucks. Clearly, it was the town’s gossip hour.
She angled into a parking space in front of the courthouse, which stood like a giant, stone edifice — two stories of hand-hewn limestone, quarried from a neighboring county. Tall, arched windows broke up the coldness of the building. Katherine thought it needed stone gargoyles, standing guard from the top of four newel posts that formed the Widow’s Walk. The large clock on the front tower’s face sounded two loud bongs.
Katherine whisked through a revolving door and made her way to the information desk. A tall, regal-looking man dressed very formally in a business suit, wearing wire-rim glasses, asked her if she needed any help.
“Hello, I’m Katherine Kendall,” she introduced.
The man stifled a laugh. “I’m Jake’s great-uncle, Alan.” He extended his hand.
Katherine shook it, and said, “Nice meeting you. I’m discovering that Jake has a very large family.”
“Yes, indeed. Congratulations are in order. Jake makes us very proud.”
“Thank you,” she glowed.
“So, what brings you here today?”
“I own the house next to the pink mansion. I mean, let me start all over again. I inherited the pink mansion from my great-aunt Orvenia Colfax. I also inherited the yellow brick Foursquare next to it.”
“The speakeasy,” Alan teased.
“You’ve heard of it?”
“It’s an Erie landmark, except it’s not on the historic register.”
“I’m looking for information about the history of its previous owners.”
“That shouldn’t be hard to find, but let me get someone to relieve me here. I’ll take you back to the Recorders Office.” Alan lifted a landline
receiver and called someone to the front. In a few seconds, a middle-aged woman sauntered out of an office and said, “I’ll take over now.” She eyed Katherine curiously, but didn’t smile. Katherine smiled anyway. She had long gotten used to the town’s cliques. If you didn’t belong to one, you were regarded an outsider. And never talk bad about anyone in town, because everyone was related either by kin or on-going friendships.
Alan said, “Thanks, Marty. Katherine, I’ll show you the way.”
Katherine followed him down to the last room, and entered the Recorders Office.
“Please, take a seat,” he pointed. He went into a vault-like room, and returned with a large binder. He studied the index, then turned to a page. “The house was built in 1920. The owner was William Colfax.”
Katherine sat down on an oak side chair, then nodded. She already knew this information.
“When William passed away, legal title went to Orvenia Colfax.”
“Yes, my great-aunt. Does the record indicate the names of tenants? I mean, if William or my great-aunt rented the home to a tenant, would their names appear in the record?”
“No, only the names of the owners. Why would you want the names of the renters?” Alan asked nosily.
Katherine got up, and answered evasively. “I’m curious like a cat.”
“Evelyn Clay lived there for decades.”
“Do you know if she was married?”
“She married Ron Clay. He was a friend of my dad. They were on the same bowling team. The couple didn’t get along. Ron was socially active, but Evelyn just wanted to stay in the house. She was a recluse.”
Katherine added, “When I first moved here, and she was still alive, I never saw her, not even to check the mail or walk in her backyard.”
“Ron couldn’t find work in Erie, so he took a coal mining job in southern Indiana. He died tragically in a mining accident.”
Katherine wondered if the spirit was Ron Clay. “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you know if they had any children?”
“They had a daughter,” he paused. “Let me think for a minute, and I’ll try to remember her name. What was it?” he said, pulling at his white goatee.
“That would be so helpful,” Katherine encouraged.
“Started with a ‘K.’ Kathy, no, not Kathy. Katrina. Katrina Clay. That was her name.”
“Does she still live in Erie?”
“Let me think,” he pondered. “I remember there was some gossip in town about Katrina falling for some farmhand. Evelyn didn’t like the young man, so she sent Katrina to a finishing school in Massachusetts.”
“Wow, that seems rather extreme. What did Katrina’s father think of that?”
“Oh, he was dead by then.”
“What was the year Katrina was sent away?”
“Sometime during the mid-1960s, don’t rightly remember.”
“Do you know if Katrina ever returned to Erie?”
Alan shook his head. “I don’t know. After a while people stopped talking about her, and the young man went his separate way. Ms. Kendall, Katrina would be in her seventies now. You might want to check the state’s death record database.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“My pleasure. Here, I’ll write down the web address. You can search online.”
“I appreciate it,” Katherine said, and then thought about how she was a computer science expert, and should have thought of searching online in the first place. But she prided herself in getting out and meeting new people. She didn’t want to become a recluse like Evelyn Clay.
Alan scribbled the address on a memo pad, tore off the sheet, and handed it to her. “Let me know what you find out. You’ve piqued my interest. I like to know what happened to her.”
“Will do. Thanks so much,” she said, heading for the door. “It’s been nice talking to you, Alan. I hope to see you soon.”
Alan called after her. “You will! Me and the Mrs. are coming to your reception at the armory.”
“Wonderful. I look forward to meeting her. Bye, now.”
***
Katherine drove home, and immediately walked back to her office, and woke up the computer. Keying in the Internet address Alan had given her, she waited for the prompt, then typed in Katrina Clay’s name, filled in the town name, and pressed “Enter.” Five Katrina Clays popped up on screen, but none of them was from Erie.
“That was a bust,” she said out loud. “Why even ask for the town name, when you’re going to list all the Katrinas in the state?” She suddenly realized she had become one of those individuals who talked to computers. “Whoa. I get it. Maybe one of the five is my Katrina, but she died somewhere else in Indiana.” She painstakingly went through each name; none of them matched the time frame. The women were either too young or too old when they died. “Enough! I’m done.”
Swiveling in her chair, she became aware she hadn’t been greeted by the cats. “Lucky seven, where are you?” she beckoned, thinking they were probably upstairs taking a siesta in their playroom. The kittens, Dewie and Crowie, raced into the room, and applied their paw brakes close to Katherine’s chair. She reached down, picked up both of them, and placed them on her lap. “Want me to teach you how to surf the web?” she asked playfully.
“Mao,” Dewie belted; Crowie patted the mouse.
Surprised, Katherine said, “Looks like you’ve already had lessons. Okay, now off you go.” She set the kittens on the floor. They scampered out of the room, and into the atrium.
Katherine began searching the Erie Ledger for possible articles on either Katrina Clay or the yellow brick house. She plugged in the address, and meticulously combed through article after article, based on the year. She was thankful that she’d made funds available to the Erie library to enter the digital age, or else she’d be in the library right now, searching through microfilm with an ancient reader that belonged in the Smithsonian. After an hour of reading about the local cake bake, church trips to northern Indiana, and fatal car crashes, obviously before seat belts, she changed gears and searched for obituaries.
“Bingo,” she said out loud. “December 23, 1940, twenty-year-old Rita Booker, domestic worker for the Colfax family, was hit by a car on Lincoln Street. She died later as a result of the accident.”
Where on Lincoln Street? Katherine asked herself. “Was she married? Was she a mom? She continued reading. “Funeral at the Erie Church of God, interment in the Ethel cemetery after short service.”
Frustrated, Katherine sent the information to the printer. Then she exited the site, pulled up an advanced search window in her browser, and rekeyed the database address Alan Cokenberger had provided. Scanning the page, she read Rita’s death certificate. She gasped, “She was pregnant.”
With fingers flying, she texted Colleen. “Drum roll! The ghost is . . . .”
Colleen texted back, “Spirit.” Colleen constantly reminded her that the politically correct word for ghost was spirit. “Man or woman?”
“A young woman who worked for my great-aunt.”
“What year?”
“1940.”
“Cool, see ya tonight.”
Wow, that was abrupt, Katherine thought, then remembered that today was Colleen’s exam day. “I hope I didn’t jinx it.”
***
Katherine sat on the top step of the yellow brick Foursquare and waited for Daryl and Colleen to arrive. In a few minutes, the couple pulled up in Daryl’s classic 1967 Impala. The off-duty deputy got out and moved over to open Colleen’s door. The door made a loud creak when he opened it. Colleen slid out, and opened the back passenger door. Katherine got up from the step and walked down the sidewalk to meet them. “Hi, you two.”
Daryl smiled. “How ya doin’, Katz?”
Colleen lifted a cardboard box off the back seat. Daryl walked over, and took the box. “Here, let me help you with that.”
Katherine said, “I’m just fine. Are you sure you don’t want to join us in our paranormal investigation?”
&nb
sp; Daryl moved toward the Foursquare. “Normally, I’d be all over it, but Jake and I have plans.”
Katherine knew what those plans were. Tonight was the bachelor party. Jake’s friends and cousins had reserved a dining room at the Erie Hotel. She smiled, “I know.”
Colleen said, “Katz, I didn’t bring all of my equipment, but just the most important ones.”
Daryl, always the deputy, even when he was off-duty, said, “Katz, can I do a look-see inside the house before you two start your séance?”
Colleen threw him an annoyed look. “We’re not having a séance.”
Daryl winked affectionately, and put his hands up in defense. “I’m just messin’ with you.”
Colleen pursed her lips.
“Sure, Daryl, I just unlocked the door. Colleen and I will wait outside,” Katherine answered.
“Does anyone else have keys?” he asked.
“Margie has a set. Plus, Jake. Why?”
“Does Margie know you two are,” he paused, to say the correct terminology in front of Colleen, “investigating paranormal activity?”
Colleen smiled. “That’s better.”
“No. What are you getting at? Do you think Margie’s lurking inside waiting to pretend to be a ghost?” Katherine laughed.
“Just askin’.” Daryl opened the front door, and stepped inside. Colleen moved over to the top step, and sat down.
“Hey, Colleen. What gives? You look a bit glum.”
“I’m fine,” Colleen said, not very convincingly.
“No, you’re not. What gives?”
“I’m having problems with Daryl.”
“Really?” Katherine asked, surprised.
“Do not breathe a word of this to Jake. Promise?”
“Of course. What’s wrong?”
“Daryl is pressuring me to get married, and I don’t want to. I just started school — ”
“You think he’s moving too fast?”
Colleen nodded.
Daryl returned. “Coast is clear. Ladies, I better be goin’.” He kissed Colleen on the cheek, and headed for his car.
Katherine waved and ushered Colleen in. “I think he adores you.”
“I’ve got you figured out, Katz. You just want me to tell you I’m madly in love with Daryl.”
The Cats that Stalked a Ghost Page 4
