A Ghost at Stallion's Gate (13 page)

“Honestly, I cannot say. And, what I suspect is not important. It would seem to me that Curtis Strong, and possibly other members of the Pasadena Conservancy question that there might be additional graves in the pasture. Josh and his crew will do test digs on Monday. Until then, you, we and anyone who is not a member of the Pasadena Conservancy should steer clear of that pasture.” Francisco’s statement was a warning directed at me, of course.

Hoping to change the subject without committing myself to obeying his advice, I asked Francisco “Did you find out about the taxidermist?”

“His name was Gerald Warner. There is nothing illegal about what he did. He was well thought of in the business and Reggie Coover quite openly paid him for his work.”

“Rats. I was hoping there would be more to the story.”

Francisco flipped through his notebook once again, and then he paused for a moment and smiled at me. “I did discover interesting news about the court case between Marla Devereux and Empress Tatiana.”

I was all ears, “Oh, do tell.”

“Empress Tatiana, also known as Gertrude Straub, had yet another name. Straub was her married name. She and her husband owned the company. His name was Lincoln and apparently he was the silent partner and financial backer to the business end of the company. Gertrude was the public figurehead, so to speak. Gertrude’s maiden name was Monette.”

“No way. Monette was Marla’s maiden name. They must have been related,” I said.

“Wait,” Alex said, “this could change all the dynamics of the case. Francisco, you came by this information through a reliable source?”

“Certainly did. I did the research myself. A friend of a friend agreed to allow me to look at old court case files stored in the basement of the Los Angeles City Hall.” Francisco grinned and I couldn’t help but to wonder if his friend of a friend was a woman he used his charm on.

“And this friend, who has a friend, is it the same man you were talking with the other day. The man who believes he may have some type of family history with Marla Devereux?” I asked.

“Yes, it is the same man. He’s quite keen on solving this case, too. If he had more time I believe he would want to become involved and help out. However, his work hours prohibit doing so,” Francisco explained.

“Francisco, could I meet him, maybe interview him? Would you mind making an introduction?” I queried.

“Not necessary, Shannon. You have already met with him.”

Francisco was teasing me. I wondered who in the world he could be referring to. Stumped, I had no alternative but to ask, “Okay, I give up, who is the mystery man?”

“Your innkeeper, Darren Kelsey.”

“Rats. I should have guessed. I had a gut feeling he was withholding information from me. What I don’t get is why he is open and forthcoming with you,” I said to Francisco.

“Maybe he did not want to give you the wrong impression,” Francisco suggested.

“Or maybe he did not want to take advantage of you because you are a paying guest at his inn,” Alex added.

“Okay, good defense on Darren’s behalf, from both of you. All things considered, I vow I will not be a pesky guest and pursue him with personal questions. However, I do have another question, maybe one of you knows the answer. Why is the street that Stallion’s Gate is on called Rivalry Road?”

It was Alex who spoke first. “Because, in the beginning there were only two estates on that street. Stallion’s Gate and then another called Champion’s Grove. As you are aware the Coover family was very much into horse racing, well, so was the owner of Champion’s Grove, a man named Hugo Modeski. The estates were developed and built at the same time, Coover and Modeski agreed to call the street Rivalry Road. Local folklore claims that the men were friendly competitors in the horse racing culture.”

“I agree with Alex’s explanation,” Francisco added.

“Well, okay then, that takes care of one curiosity that’s been on my mind. Hopefully, tonight will provide some answers to other questions.” I turned to Alex and said, “I should get back to my cottage, would you mind picking me up tonight?”

His eyes brightened. “Not at all. It’s a date.”

I left it at that and then said goodbye. I turned around before exiting Kathleen’s to see Alex and Francisco laughing. The waitress was giving them refills on their coffee. I knew they would continue to discuss the case and I was tempted to stay. But for now I wanted to get back to my cottage. I had some snooping to do.

Chapter 24

Upon entering my cottage I heard the soft clicking taps of a keyboard in use. I closed the cottage door, locked it and went into the kitchen. The window shades were drawn to guard privacy, a measure of safety that I dearly appreciated. Eric had moved my laptop computer to the opposite side of the kitchen table so that anyone walking in would not see a keyboard that appeared to be tap dancing all by itself. He did not look up until I cleared my throat.

“Hello.” I stood looking at Eric.

“Yes, I knew it was you. I sensed your approach before you entered through the front door,” Eric announced. “I heard you lock the door. Brilliant precautionary step, if I do say so myself.” He beamed with pride, as if I was the first latchkey kid he had ever trained to secure the premises when a ghost is walking about.

“I believe you instructed Alex to do the same, and I bet, you at least attempted to teach Aunt Dora, too?”

Eric looked up from the computer and answered, “Alex was easy, he inherited a magician’s sense of secrecy. Dear, dear, Dora, she was a unique situation. Far too tender a soul and a flighty spirit.”

Intriguing, I thought. It is rare for Eric to disclose intimate details about his rapport with others. I sat down across from him and watched as he continued to ignore me. He tapped away on the keyboard, glancing at the screen now and then.

“So, what have you found out?” I asked.

“In regard to whom, exactly?” Eric replied.

“Whom? How many people did you dig up history on?”

“Three in all. Darren Kelsey, the Empress Tatiana and Reggie Coover.”

“That’s impressive. Eric, I had no idea you’d get so far in research. I asked about Darren, but what made you decide to investigate Reggie Coover and the infamous Empress Tatiana?” I asked.

He smiled and set aside the laptop. “Shannon, in my experience, wealthy men who have every luxury at their fingertips, such as Reggie Coover did, never leave behind a beautiful and caring woman, no more than they would leave behind the trappings of their extravagant lifestyle.”

“Hmm, given the fact that you are speaking from having lived the life of wealth and luxury, I’m intrigued. So, you’re saying there’s some kind of connection between Reggie and Empress Tatiana, tell me what you found out about Reggie Coover,” I said. I grabbed my pen and pad of paper that was off to the side, and was ready to jot down notes.

Eric looked at my pen in hand and said, “You needn’t bother. I’ve created word documents and saved them to a file on the computer and your little box drive.”

“Flash drive,” I corrected him.

“Whatever. Shall we proceed?”

I got comfortable in the kitchen chair, propped my elbows on the table and clasped my hands. “I’m all ears.”

“Reggie Coover, as you have been led to believe, did leave California shortly before the stock market crashed i
n October of 1929. According to the 1930 census, Reggie resided in Baton Rouge, Louisiana and he was still there in 1940, according to the census for that year. I cannot locate when he died, since the 1950 census is not public domain, yet
.”

“How did he fare after the crash?” I asked.

“He maintained some wealth, predominantly that which was not encumbered by banking and financial interests, specifically his wealth through ownership of the railroad. He was not financially ruined in the stock market crash of 1929, and if one cares to believe newspaper accounts from Baton Rouge, Reggie was a sold citizen. He contributed to community welfare interests and sponsored many efforts to rebuild after the devastating flood of 1927. By all accounts, the playboy he was in California, appears to have put down roots in Baton Rouge, sometime before he officially moved from California in 1929. He may have led a dual life, so to speak, from 1926 to 1929. The earliest accounts of Reggie Coover in Baton Rouge date to March of 1926. During the years he spent between California and Louisiana, he led an extravagant lifestyle in California and then, while in Baton Rouge, he cleaned up his act and became quite respectable. And except for one very telling omission in his life, I believe that entire story.”

“That omission is?” I queried.

“Evidently, Reggie Coover never married, or at least, I found no evidence of him ever being married.”

“Odd,” I commented. “But not marrying is not an indication that he was not respectable. Maybe he never found the love of his life. Or maybe he did marry, but the documentation is not so easy to locate over the Internet. Why do you suppose he went to Baton Rouge?”

“Perhaps he went to Baton Rouge because he did find the love of his life. But he could not marry her.” Eric said this in such a tone that I knew he was onto something, a clue he was baiting me with.

“Was the canary appetizing?” I asked.

“Is it that obvious?” Eric asked.

“Painfully so, the telltale feathers are all around your mouth,” I teased.

“Well, you can’t blame a chap for trying. I do so want you to be impressed with this next bit of evidence.”

“Eric, I promise I will be impressed.”

“In the summer of 1926, Reggie Coover financed the building of a small community theater in Baton Rouge. Do you care to guess whose name most often appeared on the marquee?”

“No, really? Marla Devereux?” I answered.

“Yes indeed,” Eric said. “But not as Marla Devereux, rather she used her birth name of Marla Monette.”

“Hmm, I wonder if she was trying to outrun her life here in California?”

“Run from who and what?” Eric asked.

“Maybe unsavory associations within the illegal horse racing crowd, or maybe from the Empress Tatiana. Whom I just learned was Gertrude Straub, also known as Gertrude Monette. Do you suppose Gertrude and Marla were related?” I asked.

“That connection did not show up in research, though now that you mention it, I suspect you are correct. However, I was not looking for a family relationship between them. I did discern that after Marla won the legal battle with Gertrude, Gertrude’s Empress Tatiana company filed for bankruptcy in February of 1926. Then in March, Gertrude filed for a divorce from her husband Lincoln Straub.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” I commented. “Eric, how did you find out this information?”

“Newspaper accounts in that Internet newspaper archive that Alex subscribes to. Of course, they merely report the facts, but considering that Marla won in the legal case, it was a hot ticket for reporters. They left Marla alone and hounded the Straubs.”

“This muddies some of my ideas,” I complained.

“Well, let’s clear the water so to speak, and allow me to disclose what I discovered about Darren Kelsey.” Eric’s dark eyes glinted with mischief.

“Once again, I’m all ears,” I said.

“Darren is in direct lineage to Lincoln Straub.”

“ How so and don’t you mean Gertrude and Lincoln Straub?”

“No, I mean Lincoln Straub. Lincoln would be Darren’s fifth generation grandfather. No evidence supports that Darren is in Gertrude’s line, though given the circumstances, I would think she is a direct ancestor.”

“Rats. How does Darren tie in?” I asked.

“Evidently, in the divorce settlement between Lincoln and Gertrude Straub, a single child, age five years at the time of the divorce, was given over into full parental custody to Lincoln, not Gertrude. Usually this would indicate that the child was not the wife’s, in this case, meaning that Gertrude was not the birth mother. Though, stranger parent custody rulings have occurred. However, to not rule in favor of a mother having custody of a young child, well, that would have been exceptionally progressive for that era,” Eric concluded.

“I see. And do you know the name of the child?” I asked.

“No. Court reports did not name the child, the only identity was the age and gender, a little boy.”

“Then how did you connect this to Darren?” I asked.

“How astute of you, dear Shannon. An excellent query indeed. Had it not been for the Kelsey family having hired a professional genealogist some years ago, I would n
ot have known. Never would have I put two and two together. Once again, the newspapers provided the answer. Discreet advertisements were placed in newspapers here in the Los Angels area, in Montana and in Baton Rouge inquiring of family connections to the surnames of Kelsey and Straub. In each advertisement, the contact address was the Rose Victorian. I connected the dots in executing a tax search on the Rose Victorian property. The home was built by the Kelsey family a
nd has stayed in Kelsey ownership all these many years. Darren’s mother’s maiden name is Straub.”

“Hmm, the plot thickens as Gracie said today. I can understand a genealogist looking for a connection in Baton Rouge, given the possibility that there might be a connection to Gertrude Straub and her maiden name was Monette, but why would a genealogist look for a connection in Montana?” I asked.