Karen Anne Golden - The Cats That 02 - The Cats that Chased the Storm (9 page)

Mark followed after her. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “When you first came out here, I didn’t want to tell you because I thought it would alter your decision to move to Indiana,” he confessed.

Katherine folded her arms defensively. Fuming, she asked, “Who’s buried in the crypt?”

“No one.  William’s Colfax’s body was never found. Orvenia had him legally declared dead in 1938, hence the court proceeding.”

“First, you don’t tell me about William having a living relative. Then, you fail to mention William went missing. What else are you keeping secret?”

“Okay,” he said guardedly. “I’ll tell you what I know, and that isn’t much. Your great uncle was a shady character with connections to organized crime in Chicago. In other words, he made his fortune by ripping off others.”

Katherine began to calm down. “I thought my great uncle was the pillar of Erie society, but in reality he was a criminal?”

Mark nodded. “By the time he married Orvenia, he was distancing himself from a life of crime. He was elderly with health problems. He drank too much, probably his own brew. Orvenia threatened to throw him out. So when he disappeared, she assumed he’d left her.” Mark put the Honda in gear and drove out of the cemetery.

A thousand thoughts raced through Katherine’s mind. Suspicions. Doubts. Accusations. She didn’t speak to Mark until he parked in front of the car rental business. Then she said firmly, “Gut feeling tells me that skull in the tunnel belongs to my great uncle.”

“Katz, we don’t know that. Let’s just wait for the CSI findings.”

“And I think my great aunt knew it. Why else would she have a brick wall put in front of the entrance to the tunnel? She had lots to gain – William’s entire fortune – yet she had a family in Brooklyn barely making it. When my great granny was alive, she told stories of standing in bread and soup lines just to stay alive. Yet, my great aunt had a fortune and did
nothing
to help them.”

She started to get out, but Mark touched her arm. “I could kick myself for not telling you about your great uncle earlier. I’m so sorry.”

Katherine recoiled from his touch and said, “Thank you for bringing me here. I’ll talk to you later.” Shutting the door, she made her way into the rental office. Mark remained parked outside for a few minutes, then left. Before the clerk came to the counter, Katherine thought,
I need to try to decipher the journal word-for-word. If Scout thought it was important enough to bring to my attention, there’s probably a valuable clue in the book
.

*
      *      *

Angry and depressed, Katherine drove the rented SUV to the closest hair salon that offered walk-in service. She had several hours to kill before picking up Abby, so she thought a manicure and new hairdo would do the trick.

Once Katherine was ensconced in the chair, the hair dresser said, “You have such pretty black hair. What can I do for you today?”

“I want the latest Jennifer Lawrence haircut. You know her
, right?
Hunger Games
?”

“Yes, why of course, but you have such gorgeous long hair. I just saw her on the TV. You really want me to cut it
all
off?”

“Yes, exactly. Chop away! But, save it for me so I can donate it to charity.”

“Oh, we can do that for you,” the hair dresser said. “Now, you head over to the washing station,” she pointed, “I’m going to have Marcy at the front desk do an Internet search on this haircut you’re talking about.”

“Oh, search her name and Golden Globes,” Katherine suggested.

After several hours of being pampered, with the new haircut Katherine felt pounds lighter. She paid the bill, then glanced at her new look in the mirror. With her phone, she took a
selfie
and sent it to Colleen who texted back immediately, “Who is this?” Katherine answered, “The new me!” “You look fabulous,” Colleen commented. Walking out the door, she smiled happily. She thought,
a new look will do me just fine
.

*
      *      *

Arriving at the vet school, Katherine approached the reception desk and said, “I’m Katherine Kendall. I’m here to pick up Abby.” The twenty-something man behind the counter checked his computer screen, glanced up and said, “We don’t have anyone listed by that name. Could you spell it, please?”

Katherine spelled her last name.

The man laughed. “Oh, here you are. Someone entered your last name as
Kindle
.”

“Do I look like an e-reader?” she kidded. “Is Abby ready?” she asked, trying to prod the receptionist forward.

“I’ll check you in. Just have a seat and someone will come out and get you.”

Katherine barely sat in her chair, when a bubbly young vet student whizzed out. “Are you Abby’s mom?” she asked.

“Yes,” Katherine smiled.

“Great, follow me.” The student directed Katherine to an empty examining room. “I absolutely adore Abby. She’s super sweet. I bet you can’t wait to see her,” she said. Within a few seconds, the vet walked in holding the Abyssinian. Someone had tied a red bow around Abby’s neck, which matched the ruddy color of her fur. Abby took one look at the new Katherine and hissed.

Katherine came forward to pet her, “Abby, it’s mommy.” She let the little cat smell her hand, then Abby relaxed and said a boisterous “chirp”. The vet handed her to Katherine.

“Ah, my sweet darling. I’m so happy to see you.”

Abby slowly squeezed her eyes and began purring loudly.

“My name is Doctor Brown; this is Cindy Goldstein. We’ve been taking care of Abby since Dr. Sonny brought her in. I’ll let Cindy explain.”

Cindy began, “We did a sonogram, which didn’t show any signs of Eucalyptus. We know she had an acute toxic reaction, but we’re not sure if it was the actual eucalyptus or the fixative they use to preserve it. Abby’s been on a bland diet, which she’ll have to remain on for at least two weeks. We want you to follow up with Dr. Sonny.”

“Has she thrown up since she’s been here?” Katherine asked.

“Not once,” Cindy said.

The vet added, “Keep her quiet for a few days. She’s been on a sedative to calm her down.”

“Why, was she not calm?” Katherine asked, concerned, thinking of Abby collapsed over the water bowl.

“She was stressed by being here, so we gave her a light sedative.”

Cindy offered, “She’s good to go.” Cindy took Abby and put her in a cardboard cat carrier, while Katherine signed the discharging papers. “Bye, Abby,” Cindy said. Dr. Brown blew the Abyssinian a kiss.

“Oh, here’s a bag with bland food in it,” Cindy remembered. “It’s in a can. Feed her four times a day. One can per day.”

“Thank you so much,” Katherine beamed. Heading out the door and to the front lobby, Abby trilled with the knowledge that she was going home.

“Good girl. Let’s get out of here quick so I can get you home. Your furry friends miss you.”

Abby nuzzled the metal gate of the carrier.

“Oh,” Katherine said, walking back. “I forgot to pay!”

Chapter Eight

Katherine finished making up the new bed while the cats chased each other throughout the bungalow. Although the vet had advised that Abby be kept quiet, Katherine wondered if the doctor ever lived with a cat. Abby hadn’t stopped running since she set paw in the house. Hopefully with the bed made, she could corral the hyper felines and confine them to their new bedroom. The long day wasn’t over yet. She still had the six-thirty appointment with Detective Martin.

“Okay, cats. Check out the new bed,” she called, patting the quilt.

Lilac and Abby trotted in, shoulder-to-shoulder. They jumped up and began pawing at the quilt to make a little nest. Katherine helped by putting down her terry cloth robe for the two to sleep on. Lilac began grooming Abby; their paws were intertwined. “Chirp,” Abby said thankfully.

“If only the other two would be so easy to catch,” Katherine muttered.

Scout sauntered in and leaped up to the windowsill; she immediately began chattering at a squirrel. Iris dove for the food bowl.

“Purrfect,” Katherine said, shutting the door.

The doorbell rang, so she hurried to answer. Jake was standing outside, holding a box full of groceries. He stood back for a moment, observing her new look. He nodded in approval. “I like it!” he said. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course. A man bringing me food is always welcome,” Katherine joked, letting him in.

“I figured you’d need a few things.”

“Thanks so much, but how did you know I didn’t make it to the grocery store?”

“Psychic,” he laughed, carrying the box to the kitchen counter. A bottle of cabernet was on top. “This was outside. There’s a note on it.”

Katherine grabbed the note and quickly read it. It was from Mark. “Please accept my deepest apologies. The wine is to celebrate Abby’s return.” Still vexed, Katherine threw the card in the garbage bin.

“Oh, did I miss something?” Jake asked nosily.

Katherine recovered her jovial mood and said, “No, everything is just peachy. What do we have in here?” she asked, rummaging through the box.

“Enough food for dinner,” he hinted.

“I’m starving.”

Jake began taking items out of the box. “To begin with,” he said, pulling out a package of cat treats, “we can sauté these in butter.”

“How sweet! You brought my kids treats!”

One of the cats thumped against the bedroom door and yowled loudly.

“Later, Iris,” Katherine called to the Siamese.

Jake said, “How do you know it was Iris?”

Katherine smirked. “I’m a cat whisperer.”

“Liar!” he said playfully.

“Guilty. My cats have minds of their own. I couldn’t imagine trying to get them to do anything other than what they want to do!”

Jake put the treats back in the box, then drew out a loaf of bread. “I’ll make us some tasty sandwiches instead.”

“How was your day?” Katherine asked, observing Jake making an assembly line of bread, lunchmeat and condiments.

“Lots of progress on the pink mansion. The windows have been ordered. We got the old appliances out of the kitchen.” He handed her a sandwich. “Oh, here’s a pop,” he said, pulling the tab and handing her a can of Diet Coke.

“That’s right, people in Indiana call soda a pop. Okay, thanks!” she said, then added, “I liked that old stove. It reminded me of the one I grew up with in Brooklyn. There wasn’t any way to salvage it?”

“It was pretty much smashed. When we took it out, we found a big hole behind it. We hadn’t noticed that before, so Cokey and I boarded it up. That ancient refrigerator was a son-of-a-bitch to move out. It took four guys!”

“Cokey is lucky to have you help him.”

“Gets my mind off of things, so I can just chill out.” He became very quiet.

Katherine wanted to ask him
what things
, but felt she didn’t know him well enough.

“But that’s neither here nor there,” he said, smiling, his brown eyes shining.

When they finished their sandwiches, Jake excused himself. He said he was exhausted and just wanted to go home and sleep. Before he left, Katherine gave him her cell number, and Jake gave her his. She cleaned up and was heading to check on the cats, when someone knocked on the door. Detective Martin had showed up early; she was carrying a laptop.

Katherine opened the door, “Hello. Please come in.”

The detective walked in and looked around at the empty room. “Must be a tough transition, living here with no furniture, when the pink mansion is full of it. Where do you want me to set up?”

“Come to the kitchen. It’s the only place with a table.”

Detective Martin followed Katherine. She slipped off her jacket and said, “I like your new
do
.”

“I got it cut today. My cats didn’t like it at first. I had to wash it before they’d have anything to do with me.”

“Got to love them! Well, have a sit-down,” Detective Martin said. She flipped open her laptop and positioned it on the center of the built-in table. “I’ve got some pictures to show you. We called in a physical anthropologist. The university in the city has a department and the professor was available. He did the final excavation of the skeleton.” She thumbed the touch pad. A graphic photo of an intact skeleton appeared; it was lying on its side.

Katherine leaned over the table to look. “Wow! When I first saw the skull, I didn’t think there was anything attached to it. Who is it?”

The detective shook her head. “Here’s a second photo showing the left forearm and hand grasping something.”

Katherine was stunned to see the skeletal hand
clenching gold coins.

Detective Martin read her face. “Recognize something?”

“When Beatrice Baker came to my house, my cat stole her coin purse. The coins that fell out were gold-colored, and looked very much like these.”

“The librarian, Biddy?”

Katherine nodded.

“Interesting!
I was just going to ask you if you’d ever found coins like these in your house.”

“No, I haven’t,” Katherine answered. A loud crash came from the bedroom. “Excuse me. I’ve got to check on my cats. I don’t know what they’ve gotten into.” Katherine rushed to the door. As she opened it, Scout flew out and ran into the kitchen.
“Scout, come back here!” Katherine demanded.  She quickly shut the door so the other cats wouldn’t get out. When she returned to the kitchen, Scout began swaying from side-to-side. She seemed to be in a trance.

“What’s wrong with that cat?” Detective Martin
asked.

“Scout, it’s okay. Come here, sweetie,” Katherine said soothingly.

Scout’s eyes were mere slits. She began a throaty growl.

“Do you want me to help you put her up?” Detective Martin offered, but was clearly reluctant to leave her seat.

Scout arched her back and started bouncing up and down like a Halloween cat.

Katherine snapped h
er fingers, “Cadabra!” she said loudly.

Scout stopped, trotted over to Katherine, and jumped on her lap. She collapsed against her, then purred.

“Why did you say ‘Cadabra’? I thought her name is Scout,” the detective asked, bewildered.

Katherine shrugged. “I don’t know why, but I’m glad it worked. Cadabra was her stage name. Scout performed with a magician for two years. One of her tricks was to hop up and down like
a Halloween cat when you said ‘Abracadabra.’ Scout was traumatized when her sister Abra was stolen. She started messing up, so Harry – that’s the magician’s name – gave her to his niece, who was my boss in Manhattan. Monica gave her to me.”

“
Cool,” the detective said. “I’ve never met a famous cat before.”

“If it’s okay with you, I’ll just hold her for a while,” Katherine suggested.

“No problem. Let’s get back to where we were.” The detective tapped the touch pad. “Here’s a close-up of the coins. They were minted in 1929 – the last year they were made. It’s an Indian head two-and-a-half dollar gold coin. Did an Internet search. Do you know what they are worth today?” She paused, then said, “Three hundred dollars a coin!”

Katherine was shocked. “Why would Beatrice have them?”

Scout hissed. “Shhh, Scout,” Katherine said, then explained to the detective, “When Beatrice came over, she made it clear she wasn’t a friend to cats. I think animals sense these things.”

“I’ll check it out. Look at this picture. Underneath the coins is a remnant of a cloth bag. Preliminary examination revealed some interesting historical information.”

“Just looks like a tattered cloth to me,” Katherine said, squinting.

“It’s a bank money bag from a very famous Indiana robbery. South of here is a town called Greencastle. In 1933, John Dillinger and his gang robbed it. It was the most money he’d ever stolen –more than seventy thousand dollars. That was a
huge
amount of money back then.”

“Do you think these coins are from that bank robbery?”

Detective Martin shrugged, “We combed every inch of the tunnel. It was littered with hundreds of broken booze bottles, but no more coins. We used a special metal detector specifically designed to find coins, but we didn’t find any. These gold coins could have come from a bank in the early 1930s. Gold coins were removed from circulation in 1933 as a result of federal government action.”

Scout jumped from Katherine’s arms to the table and stared intensely at the computer screen.

“Does that skeleton belong to one of Dillinger’s gang?” Katherine asked.

“Not thinking so.” The detective flipped back to the first photo. “I’ll zero in on this,” she said, magnifying. “This skeleton belongs to a man of advanced age; see the degeneration of the bone. That’s from advanced arthritis.”

“Oh, my God,” Katherine said, getting up and wanting to flee the room.

“Want to sit back down?” detective Martin asked firmly, surprised by Katherine’s behavior.

Katherine sat back on the wooden seat and put her head in her hands. “My great uncle was legally declared dead in 1938. He went missing October 28,1933. I remember the month and day because that’s my mom’s birthday. His body was never found. I think this could be him.”

“Last name Colfax, but what was his first name?”

“William,” Katherine answered.

“Well, we know the man who died in the tunnel wasn’t a member of Dillinger’s gang. He’s too old. The victim was probably some old drunk who wandered over from the yellow brick house, got lost, and died in the tunnel. If it’s William Colfax, he probably died drinking his own alcohol.”

“Why is that?”

“Our lab checked the contents of a liquor bottle that still had some of the alcohol in it. It was booze, alright, but also contained a fair amount of arsenic. Preliminary tests on the victim’s bones revealed heavy traces of arsenic, as well.”

“Why would bootleggers put poison in their booze? Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose by killing off their customers?” Katherine asked, surprised.

“Toward the end of Prohibition, alcohol makers put anything and everything in their booze. Toxic poisoning ruled the day.”

“My friend Jake Cokenberger did his dissertation on this topic.”

“Yes, he actually published in one of the CSI journals I read. Smart man,” the detective commented.

“I want to show you something,” Katherine said, getting up. She opened a deep kitchen drawer and pulled out the old shoe box. “I found this under one of the beds at my great aunt’s house.” Moving the shoe box to the table, she removed the medicinal elixir labels and the prescription pad.

Scout tried to grab one of the labels.

“Okay, sweet Siamese, this is the part where I put you on the floor.” Scout protested loudly.

Detective Martin said enthusiastically, “Our cold case just seemed to warm up a few degrees.” She examined the labels and the pad. “This is how I see it. I suspect the yellow brick house next door was a speakeasy.”

“Why would you think that?” Katherine asked.

“Oh, that’s easy. Take a look at this.” The detective pulled up an Internet page on speakeasy doors.

Katherine leaned over and studied the screen. “I see wood doors with grilles set at eye level. I take it the grilles weren’t decorative, right?”

The detective nodded. “The owner could check out who wanted to come in without opening the door.”

“Like a fancy peephole,” Katherine added.

The detective exited the search, then pulled up two side-by-side photos. The one on the left showed a wood-paneled door with an iron grille insert. “This is a speakeasy door circa 1929. The photo on the right is one I took yesterday. It’s the tunnel door to the yellow brick house.”

“That’s uncanny! The doors are identical!” Katherine said, shocked.

Scout jumped
back on the table and rubbed her jaw on the side of the laptop screen, which caused the computer to rock on the table. Katherine quickly grabbed the inquisitive Siamese and set her back down on the floor.

The detective continued, “Once we removed the rubble in the tunnel and saw the door, we knew the house was a speakeasy. The basement was probably the bar.”