2 Yule Be the Death of Me (17 page)

“What did she
say?” Harriet asked.

“She said that
her husband was a very busy man, having just taken office but that she would
mention it to him.” Maggie gave a little scowl. “I didn’t find her very
sincere.”

“Well, she did
come to Whispering Oaks to visit with the residents.” Harriet replied. “That’s
something.”

“It’s the
minimum she could do.” Maggie spoke up. “She seems more caught up in the
excitement of being first lady if you ask me.”

“I can’t argue
with you on that point.” Harriet chuckled. “Whatever made you take notice of
the Cayuga Union Cemetery?”

“I know there
are fewer days ahead than there are behind, Harriet.” Maggie sighed.

Harriet
reached out and took hold of Maggie’s hands. “Oh, don’t say such a thing.”

“I’ve lived a
very full life and I certainly can’t complain for having eighty-nine good years
to enjoy it with.”

Harriet’s eyes
filled with tears. “The good Lord will bless you with many more I hope.”

“Perhaps he
will.” Maggie agreed. “But, one last thing I hope to do before I go is have
that old cemetery restored to a proper state.”

“There hasn’t
been a burial out there for decades.” Harriet replied. “Does anyone even visit
the graves? I never see any flowers.”

“There
probably aren’t many living mourners alive anymore, but that doesn’t mean they
should be forgotten.” Maggie spoke up. “There are quite a few union soldiers
buried there, there’s even a cannon and a stack of cannonballs up there.”

“There is? I
never noticed it.”

“That’s
because the weeds and grass have taken over and hidden it from view.” Maggie
looked toward Vivienne for a moment, as if she noticed her.

“What’s wrong,
Maggie?” Harriet asked with a hint of concern in her voice.

“Nothing.”
Maggie shook her head. “Just a trick of the light.”

“Just like in
the library.” Harriet nodded back. “You were so right about that when things
are quiet.”

“So, to make a
long story short I asked this Mona Clarke to look into where the money for the
perpetual care of the cemetery has gone to.”

“Who was the
last caretaker?” Harriet wondered.

“John Pagano,
he retired about ten years ago.”

“So he never
had a replacement?”

Maggie shook
her head. “The town took care of the lawn care for a year or two but then a
mowing was missed, then another. Before too long, it was just forgotten and no
one ever complained.”

“That’s a
shame.” Harriet agreed.

“Those folks
buried out there deserve to be remembered.” Maggie spoke softly. “I can’t think
of a worse fate than to simply be forgotten.”

The room
slowly faded away as Vivienne gently pulled away from Harriet’s memory. There
was a slight moment of dizziness as the spell effects diminished. Vivienne
quickly worked to cover it before Harriet could ask questions. “You certainly
snagged quite a bargain with that bracelet.” She released Harriet’s hand.

“I’m sorry.”
She blinked. “What did you say?”

“I said you
sure snagged a bargain over at
Meeker’s
.” Vivienne
smiled. “I never have luck like that with sales.”

“Neither do
I
.” Harriet took a deep breath and pulled her arm back down.
“Oh, I hate that feeling.”

“What
feeling?” Vivienne felt a moment of panic build inside her.

“That feeling
when someone walks over your grave.” Harriet smiled. “I know it’s just a silly
superstition, but I can’t help but think that whenever I get goose bumps.”

“Oh, I
wouldn’t dismiss everything magical in the world.” Vivienne played along.
“There’s a little truth to everything.”

“I’m sorry I
couldn’t be more help to you.” Harriet replied as she started scanning books
again.

“Oh, don’t
worry about it. You gave me more help than I could have hoped for.” Vivienne
waved goodbye and stepped out of the library.

She retrieved
her smart phone and activated the telephone directory app she had installed a
few months ago on a lark. She typed in the name Pagano and found five residents
in various locations around Cayuga Cove. John Pagano was listed as residing at
1435 Miller’s Hollow Road.

She held the
phone to her ear and activated the voice assist program. “Directions to 1435
Miller’s Hollow Road.”

“Getting
directions to 1435 Miller’s Hollow Road.” The digitized voice replied and
displayed a map. Vivienne was pleased to see it was just on the northern
outskirts of town, just off Route Ninety. She climbed into her Toyota and set
the phone in a cradle on the dashboard to keep the map at eye level.

John Pagano’s
two-story farmhouse seemed lonely sitting atop a small hill that was framed by
a fee pine trees that swayed in the cold wind coming off the shoreline of
Cayuga Lake. A small flower garden was barren, with pockets of snow scattered
here and there between brown husks of hardy mums that had at last given up the
fight against the coming freeze of winter. As Vivienne parked her car in the
gravel driveway, she hoped that John would be feeling more hospitable than the
residents of town.

The front door
creaked open as a white-bearded face poked out to get a better look at his
visitor. “Route Ninety is back the way you came. Take a left at the farm stand
down the road.”

“I’m not lost,
Mister Pagano.” Vivienne put on her friendliest smile and approached the front
porch which had seen better days. The entire structure was slanted to the
right. The roof was a canvas of moss-covered broken boards, some pulled apart
to create openings where birds and squirrels made nests for their young. “I was
hoping to talk to you about the Cayuga Union Cemetery.”

John Pagano
squinted and put his hand up to his eyes against the afternoon sunlight that
broke through the clouds overhead. “The mayor’s office finally decided to come
around to that have they?”

Vivienne
carefully walked up the wooden steps, the wooden boards bowing slightly with
each movement. “I’m not working for the Mayor’s office. My name is Vivienne
Finch and I run the Sweet Dreams Bakery on Main Street.”

“You came all
the way up here to drum up business?” He asked suspiciously.

“No sir.” She
reached the front door. “I’m a friend of Harriet Nettles and Maggie
Sandro
.”

John’s face
was lined with deep-set wrinkles, a testament to all his years working outside
under the sun. He would have been an inch or two taller than Vivienne, were it
not for his hunched back. “Well, in that case I suppose it’d be rude not to
invite you inside.”

Vivienne
nodded. “It’s a little cold out here, for sure.”

John opened
the door fully and motioned for her to come into his home. “I’m afraid I don’t
entertain company much here anymore.”

Vivienne
stepped into the living room area of the home and her nose was assaulted with
the unmistakable smell of a kerosene heater. “I won’t take too much of your
time Mister Pagano. I only have a few questions I hope you can answer for me.”

John shut the
door and kicked a draft blocker against the bottom. “Please have a seat and by
all means call me John.” He smiled, revealing a full set of yellow-stained
teeth.

Vivienne
quickly looked around the room. Like
most older
homes,
the living areas were divided up quite small. There was a simple tan sofa with
a multi-colored quilt draped over the upper edge of the cushions planted
against the wall opposite the front door. The walls were covered with faux wood
grain brown paneling that screamed vintage 1970’s. She took a seat on the sofa.
“Thank you.”

John walked
slowly over to her and sat down with a little bit of effort that revealed he
most likely battled some form of arthritis in his back. “So what’s a pretty
young baker doing asking questions about an old cemetery?”

“Well, my
research revealed that you were the last caretaker and I was wondering if you
could shed some light as to why a replacement was never found.” Vivienne asked.

John shrugged
his shoulders. “The town never got around to it, I suppose.”

“I thought the
Cayuga Union Cemetery had perpetual care?”

“It’s supposed
to.” John nodded. “Back when I took care of the grounds I used to go to town
hall to get money for equipment and such.”

“When did the
town assume control of the cemetery?” Vivienne asked.

John paused
for a moment in thought. “That would have been back in 1976. The town council
wanted to load the cannons onto a float for the Bicentennial parade that July
and they asked me to get it cleaned up as best I could.”

“Did they do
that?”

John shook his
head. “No, they gave it a good try but that darn things were heavier than
anyone thought. Snapped a few cables when the tractors tried to haul the first
one out of the cemetery.”

Vivienne hoped
that her mind would be as sharp as John’s when she reached his age. Despite his
aged appearance, his recall was most impressive. “So, they abandoned the plans
and left them alone?”

“Sure did.” He
chuckled. “I always thought it kind of odd how Union soldiers moved the cannons
so easily back during the civil war, but all that modern equipment couldn’t
budge it an inch. Must be the ghosts didn’t want it to leave.”

Vivienne
leaned forward. “Ghosts?”

He stared at
her for a moment and scratched his chin. “I can tell from the look on your face
that you believe in them too.”

“Yes,
actually.”

“Well, working
in that cemetery all those years I’ve seen and heard some things I can’t
explain.” John revealed. “Does that scare you?”

Vivienne shook
her head. “No. In fact, that was one of the questions I was going to ask you.”

John let out a
hearty laugh which turned into a coughing fit. He reached into the front pocket
of his shirt and pulled out a handkerchief which he placed over his mouth.

“Are you ill?”

John waved her
question off and recovered. “Just a tickle in my throat.”

“I don’t want
to take your time if you’re not feeling up to it.”

“I’m fine,
young lady.” John straightened his posture a bit. “Now, do you want to hear
about the ghosts up there or not?”

“Please
continue.” Vivienne said apologetically.

“Well, since we
were talking about the cannons, I suppose I should start with the black widow.”

“The spider?”
Vivienne asked.

“No.” John
cleared his throat. “That’s just the name I gave her. Late nights, usually
around the beginning of fall I used to see her standing over by the civil war
monument. She was dressed all in black, her head lowered as if she were
mourning someone.”

“Did she say
anything?”

“She just
walked real
slow
back and forth, looking at the
cannons. I don’t know why, but I always felt like she was real sad about
something.”

“How did you
know she was sad?”

“She just kept
doing this, over and over and then I heard sobbing.” John acted out with his
hand how he saw her caressing the cannons gently with her hands.

“That’s
amazing.” Vivienne reached into her purse and pulled out her little note pad
and a pen. She scribbled down John’s story. “Did you get a good look at her
ever?”

“Nope.” John
shook his head. “The few times I would walk closer to get a better view she
would see me coming and then just disappear into thin air.”

“Did you ever
check the graves around the cannons to see if any women were laid to rest
there?”

“I knew the
names of most of the headstones like my own family.” John explained. “When I’d
be out there mowing, I’d be able to gauge my time by passing by certain
markers.”

“Are there any
women around the cannons?”

“No.” John
replied. “It’s all union soldiers.”

Vivienne
wanted to check it out on her own regardless and made a note to do so later.
“So this black widow, what did she look like?”

“She was short
and thin.” John searched his memory. “It looked like her hair was pulled up
into a bun in the back and she was dressed in this long black dress that looked
real old-fashioned.”

“So you think
she was dressed in clothing from the civil war period?”

“Could be, but
I’m no fashion expert.” John chuckled. “So, why the big interest in ghosts?”

Vivienne felt
her face flush warm at the question. “Well, I’m a bit of a ghost hunter in my
spare time.”

“Ghost
hunter?” He smiled. “Like those fancy boys on the television shows?”

“Hardly.”
Vivienne smiled back at him. “It’s just a hobby I like to engage in from time
to time.”

“I never
talked to Harriet or Maggie about the black widow.” John continued. “I never
thought they’d believe me.”

“I’ve got
quite an open mind.” Vivienne replied.

“Of that I
have no doubt, young lady.” John agreed. “So, are you going to go look for her
in the cemetery?”

“I’m going to
try.”

“Well, you
best watch where you step when you do.” John warned her. “There are plenty of
old graves that never had burial vaults put in them. When the wooden casket
rots away, it leaves a big gap in the earth. You step on one of those and you
could end up six feet under.”

Vivienne
shuddered at the gruesome thought. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Happened back
in the early eighties once. A young couple went to the cemetery to make
mischief.  The boyfriend decided he wanted to try and load a cannon ball
into one of the cannons and pried the protective cap off the end with a crow
bar. When he went to get a cannon ball from the pile, he got pulled into the
ground and I had to rescue him.” John recalled. “He damn near suffocated but we
got to him in time.”

“John, you
said earlier that you know most of the headstone names in the cemetery.”
Vivienne interrupted.

“Sure do.”

“Can you
recall seeing the name Natalie Burdick anywhere there?”

John paused
again in thought. “Burdick.” He glanced upwards toward the ceiling in thought.
“Burdick.”

“She would
have died sometime in the late 1800’s, maybe the early twentieth century.”
Vivienne tried to help him out.

“I don’t think
that name is in there.” John replied. “But, it could be one of the stones that
is so far eroded you can’t read it anymore.”

“I checked the
records at the library and I didn’t find any mention of her.” Vivienne sighed.

“Well, those
records aren’t complete. The city hall fire of 1932 destroyed some of them.”

“I didn’t know
that.” Vivienne perked up. “So it’s possible she is buried there.”

“Do you think
she’s the black widow?” John asked.

“What makes
you say that?”

“You ask me
about the ghost, give me a name.” John smiled. “I may only have an eighth grade
education, but even I can figure that out.”

“I think it’s
a possibility.” Vivienne conceded.

“Well, if you
find out will you promise to come back and let me know.” John asked.

“Sure.”
Vivienne agreed and pulled herself up from the sofa. “Thank you again for being
so kind and sharing your stories.”

John nodded.
“Before you leave, would you go over to the hutch and open the right drawer?”

Vivienne
glanced at the simple hutch that was covered with dust and piles of junk mail.
“Did you need something?”

He nodded. “In
the drawer there’s a cigar box. Could you bring it over? My back gets a little
testy when I sit for any length of time.”

“Of course.”
She did as he asked and found a small vintage Cuban cigar box right where he
said it would be. She picked it up and brought it over to him. “Would you like
me to help you stand before I leave?”

“No need to
trouble yourself.” He smiled as she handed him the box. “I just wanted to give
you this.” He flipped the top of the box open and revealed a silver brooch.
With a shaky hand, he gave it to her. “It was something I found years ago
mowing the lawn near the cannons.”

Vivienne shook
her head. “Oh, I couldn’t accept this.”

“I thought it
might help you find the black widow.” John spoke up with a glimmer of
excitement in his tired eyes. “Those boys on television always say having an
object usually gets the ghost’s attention.”

“Do you think
it came from a grave?”

“No, if I did
I never would have taken it with me.” John replied. “I think someone wanted me
to find it.”

“The black
widow?” Vivienne raised an eyebrow.

“You said it,
not me.” John chuckled. “You’re a brave soul, I’ll give you that.”

“Thank you.”
Vivienne slipped the silver brooch into her purse and glanced at her
wristwatch. “I really must be going now, but it was a pleasure talking with
you.”

“The pleasure
was all mine, young lady.” John smiled back. “Don’t forget to let me know what
you find out.”

“I promise.” Vivienne
smiled back.