The Super Spies and the Cat Lady Killer (8 page)

Landing with a soft thud, light clouds of dust surrounded her, making her cough. Her eyes watered as she felt the darkness closing in on her. She drew a ragged breath and cleared her throat.

“Hey, are you okay down there?” Jackie asked, peering down into the basement.

“Yeah…I'm all right, I guess. I just don't like closed in places,” Sarah croaked, then cleared her throat again.

She scuffed her shoe in the dirt making up the basement floor. Immediately, another cloud of dust rose around her feet.

Waiting for the dust to settle, Sarah peered around the basement and noticed the low ceiling and all the cobwebs.
No one has been down here in years.
She wrinkled her nose and took a few steps toward the basement stairs. Under them, she spied some large boxes. Sarah wa
lked closer studying them. They
would make great stairs.
After several attempts and coughing fits, she moved some of the boxes and created a box staircase under the window. The dust swirled in the air disturbed by Sarah's activity.

“Okay, guys, come on down! You're the next contestant on the Price is Right.” S
arah said with a nervous giggle
. Her voice sounded unnatural to her, high and tinny. She knew she sounded anxious, but she couldn't help it—she was.

Jackie snickered as she wiggled through the window. “Tell me what I've won, Bob.”

“A nice long stay at Leavenworth Prison compliments of Officer Klonsky!”

“And that's not all!” Jackie announced. “You get to make a fashion statement in that hot new color, penitentiary orange. It's all the rave these days.”

The girls burst into laughter. Laughing felt good to Sarah, releasing some of the tension in her body.

As she dried her eyes, Jackie climbed down the box stairs, coughing and blinking in all the dust Sarah had kicked up. “Look at all this stuff!”

“And there's more behind door number two.” Sarah pointed at the basement door at the top of the stairs.

Lacey was the last to come down. She wheezed in the dust and rubbed her eyes. “Man, look at all this crap. It's going to take us forever to find any clues.”

“Let's go upstairs and look,” Sarah said, walking toward the basement stairs.

“Yeah, it's too dusty down here anyway,” Jackie coughed and waved her hands in the
air.

Sarah led the Super Spies up the stairs.
In the middle of the staircase, she put her weight down on a step and it creaked in protest. She froze.

“Boy, we're wound pretty tight,” Sarah giggled.

“No doubt,” Jackie agreed.

The Super Spies continued their climb to the floor above, and paused at the basement door. It had been the only barrier between the cops and the girls the previous day.

Questions bombarded Sarah's mind.
What
are
we
going to find behind the door? Is the blood still there? Will Lacey freak out again?
Taking a deep breath, Sarah pushed the door open and walked into the cluttered kitchen. The disarray amazed her a second time. There were dirty dishes piled in the sink and newspapers and junk mail littered the countertops.

“How can anyone live like this?” she asked.

“Gross. This place smells horrible.” Lacey held her nose against the offending odor of dirty litter boxes. Since the house had been sealed shut, the smell was trapped inside. She made a face. “This place is probably crawling with germs and disease.”

“The smell is so bad.” Sarah pulled her collar up over her nose and mouth.

“I wonder what happened to all the cats?” Jackie asked.

“I bet they were taken to the humane society.”

Jackie sniffed. “I hope so.”

Sarah nodded. “Me too. Let's try the living room.”

The three girls walked through the kitchen into the living room. Sarah stopped just inside the door and surveyed the area. She stared at the wide arc of blood spatter on the wall closest to the front door. It started at the doorframe and then faded into the heavy drapes by the picture window.

“Lacey, why don't you go back down stairs and be the lookout,” Sarah urged, twisting to block Lacey's view.

“No, I don't want to be down there by myself. Don't worry I won't freak out.”

Sarah sighed and studied the blood spatter again. Her heart sank when she saw it, a grisly reminder of the violence from the previous morning. She imagined the terror the Cat Lady experienced during the last moments of her life. Shuddering, Sarah spun away.

“Don't look at the blood, Lace.”

“The cat smell isn't so bad in here,” Lacey observed.

Sarah nodded. She avoided the blood spatter on the wall and focused on the stacks of newspapers.

“I wish we couldn't still smell the blood,” Lacey said.

Sarah turned and squeezed Lacey's shoulder. “Don't look at it and you'll be all right. Focus on looking for clues.” She pivoted back toward the papers. “See, Jack, this is what I was talking about,” she pointed to the piles of papers all in a row. “If the Cat Lady were fighting for her life, these piles would be all messed up.”

Jackie pursed her lips
. “You've got a point.”

“I think the Cat Lady knew her killer and let him in.”

“You know, that makes sense,” Lacey said, walking toward the back of the room. “Scott said something about stabbings being personal.”

Sarah nodded. “I think we're on the right track.”

“Hey, guys, look at this.” Lacey had moved over to the far wall, and was looking at several photographs on a shelf.

“What is it?” Sarah asked.

“I think the Cat Lady had a son.”

“For real?”

“Yeah, look at these pictures.”

Jackie and Sarah walked over and gazed at the photo she had in her hand. It was a picture of a young woman with her arm around a small boy. Both of them were laughing for the camera. Looking over Lacey's sh
oulder, Sarah studied the woman
.

The picture had captured the woman's zest for life. Her wide smile invited everyone around her to join in with her laughter. Dark hair cascaded around her shoulders, contrasting with her
white skin. Wow, she was pretty, S
arah
realized with a start. She looked
like a normal person.

“Have you ever heard of her having a family?” Sarah asked Jackie.

“No. I've only heard she was a crazy witch.”

“She doesn't look like a witch in this picture, Jackie.”

“Looks are deceiving.” Jackie stuck her nose up in the air.

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Are you sure no one has ever mentioned a son before?”

“Nope.”

“Take the picture apart, and see if there's any writing on the back,” Sarah suggested.

“It says,” Lacey started, “'David and me on the fourth.'”

“I wonder what happened to him,” Sarah frowned.

Lacey put the picture back up on the shelf.

“Wipe off your fingerprints,” Sarah instructed.

Sighing, Lacey used the hem of her T-shirt to wipe the picture off.

Ja
ckie pulled on one of her curls
. “Yeah, is he still alive, or what?”

Sarah shrugged. “Good question.”

“Hey, here's another picture.”

“It's the same little boy,” Lacey said.

Jackie pulled the picture down off the shelf and pulled it out of the frame. “It says, ‘David Fedewa August 1978'.”

“He must be her son.” Sarah studied the other pictures on the shelf. “Jack, wipe off your prints before you put the picture back.”

“The police have already searched for prints.”

“So, they might come back.”

“We gave them elimination prints,” Jackie reminded her as she put the picture back on the shelf.

The girls grew quiet as they searched for clues. Sarah kept returning to the pictures of the smiling young woman and compared her to the old woman she had found dead on the floor. They seemed like two different people. It wasn't just the fact the Cat Lady had grown old. She knew old people, who slowed down in their old age, but the Cat Lady seemed withered, like her life energy had been drained. What could have happened to this woman that had made her change so drastically? Pondering this for a moment, the nagging question surfaced. Why would anyone want to murder her? Rubbing her temples, Sarah hoped an answer would appear soon.

Lacey glanced at her watch. “Hey guys, I've got to meet Scott.”

“Wow, time sure does fly.” Sarah shook her head in surprise.

“Yeah, it does,” Lacey said, as she b
rushed her hair out of her eyes
.

“Okay. Jack, why don't you and I head down to the library and see if we can find some info on David Fedewa.”

“The library?” Jackie asked.

Sarah snickered at her horrified expression.

She led the girls back down the basement stairs, avoiding the squeaky one. They scrambled out the window, and Sarah returned it to its original position. The bright sun blinded her, and she stood in the yard blinking for several seconds.

“Try and find out everything the police have on the Cat Lady's murder,” Sarah instructed Lacey.

“No kidding, what'd ya think I was going to do? Ask him about Barbie dolls?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Whatever, just be back at the willow tree by five.”

With a wave, Lacey turned and walked down the street. Jackie and Sarah watched her walk away for a few minutes, and then began their short walk to the library.

“You know, the Cat Lady looked like a normal person in those pictures,” Jackie said.

Sarah smirked.
“See? I told you she wasn't a witch.”

“I don't know if I'd go that far.”

“Oh, come on, you don't still believe in witches, do you?”

“Well, these stories have been around town…ever since I can remember.”

Sarah chuckled. “That doesn't make them true.”

She peered down the street and saw the heat shimmering in the distance. It appeared to turn the street into liquid metal at the horizon.
Man, is it ever hot.
Sarah wiped the sweat from her brow and noticed the street was deserted. Walking down the sidewalk, she glanced back at the legendary house. A chill ran down her spine. The house seemed to be watching the girls with its lifeless, window eyes. Her heart picked up its pace. Turning back, she focused on her journey.

Jackie's voice was a comforting sound. “I don't know, I mean, she never came out of her house.” Her face had turned red from the heat.

“That makes her a freak not a witch,” Sarah said, pushing her hair out of her face.

“Yeah, but what about what happened to Mrs. Farnsworth?”

“A coincidence, you know?”

Jackie shrugged. “We're almost there.”

The girls turned the corner, stopping in front of the Harrisburg Public Library. It appeared old to Sarah, with its weathered bricks and cracked steps. There were places where some of the bricks had started to crumble. Someone tried to patch these areas with cement. Sarah realized the cement did the job, but didn't help the building's appearance.
Man, a strong gust of wind could blow this old building over.
Staring at the relic, Sarah tingled with excitement. She knew the library held all the secrets of the tiny burg.

“Here we are,” Sarah cracked a smile.

“I don't think I've ever been to the library during summer vacation,” Jackie laughed.

“For real? I go all the time.”

Jackie snorted. “No doubt. You're such a bookworm.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.”

The girls opened the library doors and walked into the cool air. It was dark and
peaceful compared to the sunny outdoors. Blinking so her eyes adjusted to the dimness, Sarah peered down the rows of bookshelves. They went on forever and almost reached the ceiling. All at once, Sarah became aware of the scent of musty old pages, and she took a deep breath. She loved libraries. Sarah heard the quiet scrape of bindings against wood and spun toward the sound.

“There's Mrs. Parker.” Jackie pointed at an elderly woman putting books back on shelves. “She's been the librarian for ages. I think she's a permanent fixture.” Her new friend whispered this last statement out of the corner of her mouth. Waving as the librarian turned toward them, Jackie said in a loud whisper, “Hi, Mrs. Parker.”

“Hello, girls.” She patted her gray bun, and then stepped off her stool.