Scout and Abra stood on the threshold. When they saw her, they began swaying back and forth, in a macabre dance. Scout’s pupils were mere slits, and Abra’s eyes were glowing red.
“Waugh,” Scout shrieked. Abra growled a deep-throated growl.
Katherine had seen the death dance before. It always terrified her.
She slowly walked toward them, speaking in a soothing voice. “Come to me, my treasures.”
Scout arched her back like a deranged Halloween cat and began hopping up-and-down. Abra mimicked Scout’s movements.
Katherine inched her way to the upset Siamese. “Come here,” she said with a comforting tone. She knew from experience that if she made a false move, they’d do the opposite of what she wanted, and run outside.
The Siamese turned on their back legs, and darted out of the house.
Katherine hurried out, frantically calling for them. “Scout, Abra. Come here.” She hadn’t seen in what direction the cats had run.
She scanned the back parking lot for the Siamese. Three vehicles were parked there: a shiny black Dodge Ram pickup, Jacky’s rental car, and the judge’s Corvette. She wondered why Stevie was at Mrs. Harper’s next door when he’d told her the job was done. Why was Jacky’s rental car there? Where was he? He certainly wasn’t at the wedding.
She worried the cats could be hiding underneath any one of the vehicles. She approached the judge’s car first. This is odd, she thought. Where’s the judge? She’s not in the house. Where is she? She put her hand on the driver’s side door handle and started to open the door.
From the corner of her eye, she saw movement. She turned and saw a translucent shape gliding toward the carriage house. In a matter of seconds, it changed into the figure of a teenaged girl. It was the same apparition she’d seen at the yellow brick Foursquare. Katherine wondered why it would be haunting her back yard. The spirit urgently beckoned Katherine to follow. Her feet were not touching the ground, but her hand was pointing toward the carriage house. No, Katherine thought. She can’t be real. Why is she pointing at the carriage house?
Katherine’s eyes widened in terror and disbelief. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. At first, she thought she was imagining things, until she realized the Siamese were stalking the specter.
Scout and Abra were crouched down, their heads hung low, shadowing the ghost, and poised to pounce at any second. Their tails were bushed out, and fur stood up on their backs. When they saw Katherine, they dashed right through the ghost, and into the carriage house. The girl’s ghost disappeared in front of Katherine’s eyes.
Katherine began trembling; she was too shocked to hear someone step up behind her. A strong, muscular arm seized her around the neck and pulled her back. With the other hand, he positioned a rag over her mouth and nose. It was the sickening sweet scent she’d smelled earlier. She struggled for a moment, then lost consciousness.
The man looked around to see if anyone had observed him. When he was satisfied the coast was clear, he carried Katherine to his pickup truck, and laid her down on the truck bed.
He eased calmly and smoothly into the driver’s seat, as if he’d done this act of kidnapping a million times before, and fired up the engine. He was too busy checking out the parking lot to notice a svelte, brown-masked cat with a slender whippy tail sprint from the carriage house. The Siamese leaped effortlessly into the back of the truck, and burrowed underneath a painter’s tarp.
The kidnapper put the truck in gear, and drove to the service alley behind the mansion. He had to get the judge to the abandoned storm cellar before the chloroform wore off. He was completely oblivious to the bridal dress worn by the unconscious judge, but he wasn’t paid to notice those things. His job was to take “the package” from Point A to Point B. If he screwed up, he’d have hell to pay. The boss lady didn’t like mistakes.
Chapter Ten
Jacky, dressed in his black suit, staggered out of the mansion’s basement bathroom, and stumbled against a garbage cart. The bin fell and lay on its side with its contents strewn across the floor.
He was so intoxicated, his hands shook when he reached in his pocket for a pack of Marlboros. Opening the box, he plucked one out with his teeth, and struggled to strike a match to light it. Having mastered that task, he lit his cigarette, then flicked the still-burning match. It landed very close to a pile of oily rags. Taking a long drag, he inhaled deeply, then blew the smoke out, through his nose. He thought he heard someone talking, farther back in the basement.
“Katz? Are you back there?” he slurred.
Russell Krow suddenly appeared in the doorway. His hair was tousled, and his black suit had a patch of dust on the front lapel. He didn’t notice Jacky at first. He was too busy brushing the dust off his jacket. With the other hand, he held a laptop computer.
“Who are you?” Jacky demanded.
“You startled me,” Russell said nervously, rubbing his hand through his hair. “I hate to tell you this, but the wedding is over. Everyone’s headin’ to the reception. Need a lift?”
“That doesn’t tell me what you’re doin’ down here, does it?” Jacky asked belligerently.
“Listen, I’m in a hurry. I’ve got to get to the armory to take more pictures.”
Jacky was sober enough to know something was off with this guy. “So why are you still here?”
“I left my laptop down here.”
“Why would you leave it in a dusty, old basement?” Jacky persisted.
“I best be off,” Russell said, heading for the classroom door. “See ya.”
Jacky started to follow him, but teetered, and almost fell. The room was whirling around him. He grasped the stair handrail for balance. He thought, What an eejit, I am. I was headin’ to the weddin’, but that bloke at the pub kept buyin’ me pints. What did he say his name was? Sammie? Sam? I think the arse was deliberately delayin’ me so I wouldn’t come.
Sitting down, he smoked more of his cigarette, lurched forward and passed out. The cigarette fell from his hand and rolled toward the rags, providing double whammy to a very unsafe situation — flammable material next to the gas water heater.
When the explosion happened, Jacky didn’t know what hit him. The shock wave flung him through an open door and into a smaller room. The thick, limestone inner wall protected him from the fire and serious injury.
The loud noise woke him out of his stupor. At first he thought he was just fine, but when he tried to get up, Jacky realized he couldn’t walk. The pain in his leg was debilitating. “Shite,” he cursed. From the next room, he thought he heard a woman cry out in pain. “Help me,” she cried, then was quiet.
“Katz,” Jacky yelled. “Stay where you are. I’ll come and get you.”
Chapter Eleven
The mechanical room was full of bricks, boards, and jagged shrapnel from the exploded water heater and other debris. The door to the classroom was blocked by an overhead structural beam. Fire danced into the room, and reared its ugly head to the office and sunporch above.
Upstairs, the only people remaining in the house were Jake and Elsa. Everyone else had left for the reception.
When the blast occurred, Jake was in the atrium. Recovering from the shock of the blast, he shouted upstairs to Elsa. “Are you okay?”
Elsa appeared on the top step. “Yes, I’m fine,” she said, in a voice bordering on hysteria. “What happened?”
Ignoring Elsa’s question, Jake asked desperately. “Is Katz up there?”
“No, when you went outside with your grandparents, Katz said for me to tell you she’d gone to the basement — ”
Jake abruptly cut her off. “Elsa, put the cats in their carriers, and get out of the house. I’ll get Scout’s and Abra’s and meet you out front.”
Dashing into the living room, he slid on the front metal gate of the cat carrier. Somehow it had detached from the carrier itself. When he peered inside, he was horrified to find it empty.
He raced to the back office to the basement do
or, and felt the doorknob. It was extremely hot, so he didn’t open it. He knew if he did, the flames would rush into the room. He extracted his cell phone and tapped 911. Later, he told Chief London that he was on autopilot, and didn’t even remember calling the fire in.
Sprinting back to the atrium, he found Elsa struggling down the stairs with two cat carriers. Inside, the cats were hysterical; Lilac was me-yowling loudly, Iris was shrieking. Poor Abby was alone in the second cage, so traumatized, she was lying on her side, breathing rapidly. Jake grabbed the handles of both carriers. “Elsa, get the door.”
Elsa bounded to the front door and opened it. Jake ran outside and nearly jumped off the front porch, taking two steps at a time. He carried the crates next door to the front porch of the Foursquare, and set them down. He hurriedly turned the key in the lock and opened the door, then said, “Stay with them until I come back.”
“Wait! What about Scout and Abra?”
“Their carrier was empty,” he spat, giving her an angry look.
Elsa’s jaw dropped, and realized Jake was accusing her of not securing the gate, then yelled, “Jake, you can’t go back in there.”
Jake didn’t stick around to disagree. He cut across the yard between the two properties, and ran at breakneck speed to the basement back door.
The explosion had broken the classroom windows, and angry flames whipped through the openings. Jake saw it was futile to try to get inside through the classroom as long as it was burning.
Close to the door was a fire extinguisher; he seized it and pulled the pin. Stevie ran over from Mrs. Harper’s with an extinguisher in his hand. The two men put out the fire in the classroom, but couldn’t move any further. The inner door to the basement was blocked by a heavy support beam.
“Is there anyone in the house?” Stevie shouted.
Jake fell to his knees. “Please, dear God, don’t take Katz away from me.”
Chapter Twelve
Chief London and his wife, Connie, arrived at the reception early, and were sitting at one of the round tables closest to the armory’s door. The table was elegantly appointed with a crisp, white table cloth. The centerpiece was a bottle of pink champagne, sitting on a gleaming silver tray with six crystal flutes. Next to the champagne was a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling wine for non-drinkers, as well as carafes of sweet tea and lemonade.
Mark Dunn and Linda Martin were sitting there as well; they held hands. The two couples were engaged in “catch-up talk,” especially with Mark, who no longer lived in Erie, but wanted to hear the latest news, AKA gossip.
Other guests mingled by the front door. Mum and her date, James O’Ferrell, were talking to Cokey and Margie.
Shelly and Tommy ventured to the center of the room, circling the table where the wedding cake sat, in awe of the cake’s three layers of creamy white icing. Edible silver beads cascaded down the sides. On the top tier was a ceramic bride-and-groom. Tommy reached into his tuxedo pocket and drew out a miniature-porcelain Siamese cat. He wiped it off, and placed it in front of the couple. Shelly launched into a fit of giggles.
Grandpa and Grandma Cokenberger had just arrived, and were seated at a long table with their family. Jake’s dad was sitting next to Grandpa, but Cora refused to sit down. She was nervously fidgeting, giving last-minute instructions to the wait staff. Daryl’s parents sat down across from each other, next to Cora’s seat.
When the blast occurred, Daryl and Colleen had just stepped inside the door.
“Oh, the Saints preserve us. What was that?” Colleen asked nervously.”
Daryl answered, “Something just blew up, and it sounded very close.”
Chief London lunged off his chair, rushing to answer a call on his cell, while the Erie fire department’s siren began to wail. Stevie Sanders ran in, and spoke to Daryl and Colleen first. “There’s been an explosion at the pink mansion. Where’s Katz?”
Cora overheard Stevie, and rushed over. “Jake and Katz haven’t arrived yet. What’s going on?” she asked in a shrill, frightened voice.
Daryl put his arm around the distraught woman, “Shhh, Aunt Cora. Let me get to the bottom of this.”
“What about Katz?” Colleen asked Stevie.
“Are you sure she ain’t here?” he asked worriedly.
“Let’s talk outside,” Daryl said, taking Stevie by the arm.
Stevie shrugged Daryl’s hand off. “Talk about what?” he asked insolently.
Chief London joined them and eyed Stevie suspiciously.
Stevie speedily sized up the situation, and knew he’d become a person of interest. “Let’s not get your Jockeys in a wad. When Jake and I put out the fire in Ms. Kendall’s classroom, and found out we couldn’t go any further, Jake asked me to come and see if she’s here.”
With red lights flashing, Officer Troy arrived in his cruiser. Chief London ran over and climbed in. He called back to Stevie, “Son, I’ll want to speak to you later.”
Stevie looked at him incredulously, then glanced back at Daryl. “We need to help Jake.” After he finished his sentence, Cora ran over. “I’m coming, too.” Before anyone could protest, she collapsed on the floor in a dead faint.
Johnny hurried over, and started patting her face. Cora came to and said, “Just go without me. Go! Go now!”
Johnny said to Daryl, “Where’s your car?”
“Over there,” Daryl pointed.
“I want to go, too,” Colleen insisted, tagging along.
Daryl turned to her and said firmly, “Stay here with your mom, and try to calm everyone down. We don’t want everyone and their brother rushing to the mansion. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
“Oh, you will, will you?” Colleen said angrily. She turned on her heels, and stomped over to Mum and her date. She flipped her hair back in anger, “Really? ‘Stay here,’ he says,” then to James, “Where are you parked? We’ve got to get to the mansion. We need to find Katz.”
Chapter Thirteen
Katherine slowly regained consciousness, and tried to get her bearings. Where am I? she wondered. Why is it so dark? What am I doing here? She panicked.
The floor was cold and damp, and the room had a moldy smell. She rose on all fours, and began crawling, checking out the perimeter. She surmised the area wasn’t more than six-by-six feet. She bumped her head on something metal. “Ouch,” she said. Rubbing her forehead, she hoped she hadn’t been cut, then noticed her crystal foreband was missing. She hurriedly felt her neck. Her tanzanite necklace was gone, too.
Reaching up, she discovered the metal object was a cot of some kind. She felt the coils of the box springs, but it didn’t have a mattress or cover. She struggled to stand up, then sat down on the cot. Her head was swimming, and she suddenly felt very nauseous.
Leaning over the edge of the cot, trying not to be sick, she went over the events of what happened after the ceremony, when she tried to return the judge’s bag. She remembered seeing the purse on the floor, and telling Elsa she’d be back in a minute. She’d gone into the living room to check on Scout and Abra, and was horrified to find they’d gotten out of their cat carrier, which was impossible because it was brand new. She’d put it together, and tested the tabs that held the two halves together. Elsa or Tommy must have put the cats in, and not tested to make sure the metal gate was secure.
From where she had been standing at the mansion, she could see the living room door to the back office was open. The feline escapees must have fled the living room, then ran into the office, kitchen, or sun porch. Walking into the office, she had been alarmed to see that a guest had left the office door to the basement open. Why would anyone do that? she thought angrily. It had to have been someone who’d never been to the house — someone without pets. Judge Hartman, she surmised.
The bout of nausea subsided, so Katherine sat back on the cot, and tried to figure out why she was in this god-awful place. She remembered walking into the classroom, and being horrified that the exterior door was wide-open. But why were the Siam
ese lingering on the threshold? They had plenty of time to escape. It was like they were waiting for her. And why the death dance? Am I going to die . . . Katherine wondered, stifling a sob, On my wedding day?
***
Earlier, the kidnapper had parked his black Dodge Ram in the parking lot behind the pink mansion. His orders were to wait for the judge, who would be driving a red Corvette. When she got out of her car, he was to kidnap her. Simple plan. He’d never done it before, so he rented movies on the subject. It didn’t seem too difficult. However, when he drove up, the woman had already arrived, and was inside the house. No one was in the car.
“Damn!” he said angrily. “I’m late.” He hesitated to call the boss, and explain the new development. When he did get the courage to tell her, the boss tore into him like a house on fire. She told him to wait until the judge came out, then grab her. After that little obstacle, he was relieved that nothing else went wrong.
When he arrived at the designated delivery point — an abandoned county insane asylum — he noticed his contact’s car parked outside a secondary building, which once was the caretaker’s home. He was surprised that she’d gone inside, because the place gave him the willies.
The main building, where Erie County sent their most dangerous, criminally insane patients, was two stories of limestone block. A fire in the 1960s destroyed the interior, but left behind charred stone walls, giving the structure a bombed-out look. Seven teenaged girls had died in that fire. He remembered when it happened.
“I better git goin’,” he muttered. “I don’t want her to git mad at me for being late.” He drove his truck to the back of the asylum and parked. He walked over to the below-ground-level storm cellar and opened the heavy wood doors, one at a time. He wasn’t sure if it was a storm cellar, or if it was used by doctors to put patients in for treatment. “Or punishment,” he smiled sadistically.
He went back to the pickup and easily lifted the unconscious woman out of the truck bed. He carried her down the storm cellar’s stairs, and noticed she was coming around. She began to struggle. He lost his footing on the bottom step, fell off, and slid on something oily. He caught himself, but dropped the woman. She moaned. He wondered if he should go back to the truck and get more chloroform, but decided to get out of there instead. In the excitement, he’d forgotten his ski mask, and didn’t want her to see him. If the plan went south, the last thing he wanted was to be identified. Kidnapping wasn’t his specialty; arson was. But the boss lady wanted to keep the judge for a few weeks and make some money. He was terrible at finances. Let the boss figure out the ransom.
The Cats that Stalked a Ghost Page 7
