Death by Haunting (11 page)

Strange things happen in Kentucky. Always have. Always will.

Ghosts are seen in Whitehall, the home of Cassius M. Clay. Clay was a wealthy man who lived south of Lexington. He was a distant cousin of Henry Clay, the Great Compromiser. While Henry Clay was an entrenched slave owner, Cassius had his office several streets from Henry Clay’s and wrote a fiery emancipationist newsletter.

Clay donated land to establish Berea College, which educated all races equally until the Jim Crow law called the Day Law was voted in by the Kentucky legislature.

While Cassius Clay is considered a person before his time, he had a dark side. Known as the Lion of Whitehall, Clay killed several men in duels and fights. He was also known for his love of the ladies. He married a fifteen-year-old girl when he was eighty-nine.

Whitehall, Clays’ home, is considered very haunted. Visitors have reported seeing a woman in a nineteenth-century costume walking about, and many report feeling ill or anxious when the tour is about to reach the third floor of the house.

It is part of our folklore that the moment Cassius Clay died, a bolt of lightning decapitated the head of Henry Clay’s monument in Lexington Cemetery.

The most haunted building in Kentucky is Bobby Mackey’s Music World, located in Wilder across the river from Cincinnati. It is currently a country-western bar but has in the past been an abattoir, a site for the Wilder Satanic group, and various nightclubs where multiple murders and suicides have occurred.

Even today patrons claim to hear and see other worldly events such as objects moving, a jukebox playing without electricity and even that spirits have attacked them. One patron sued Bobby Mackey’s Music World claiming that a ghost in the restroom had assaulted him.

So . . . was I going to take precautions when Mavis said she was seeing her mother, Cordelia Sharp? If I could have dragged her out of the house I would have, but it was all I could do to get her into the living room. But Jumping Jehosaphat, what she said unnerved me!

35

G
oetz caught a glimpse of himself in a store window. Stunned at what he saw, he stopped and stared. He didn’t look like himself. Sure, he had dropped some weight and begun working out at the gym, more out of fear of a heart attack than any sense of vanity.

Behind him, women walking to work gave him a quick glance. Some gave him more than one.

He remembered what his daughter had said the last time he had seen her. She had laughed and said, “Daddy, you’re turning into ugly sexy.”

“What’s that?”

“With men, there’s pretty sexy and ugly sexy. Humphrey Bogart was ugly sexy. Pierce Brosnan is pretty sexy.”

“Baby, you say the damnedest things.”

She laughed again and kissed his cheek.

Goetz rubbed his cheek in remembrance of the kiss. He wondered if Josiah thought he was ugly sexy. She had never commented on his new muscular body or new clothes or whitened teeth.

The woman he had recently taken out on a date had. In fact, she had invited Goetz back to her place and Goetz had accepted.

Love the one you’re with, right?

But she was not the woman he broke out into a sweat over.

That was Josiah.

But he just couldn’t break the ice with her.

Goetz wanted so much to tell her that he had killed O’nan for her. Maybe then she would trust him. Give him a chance.

But then again, maybe not. She might turn him in. He couldn’t take the chance.

How to unlock Josiah’s heart? He couldn’t find the key. So why did he want her?

Goetz recognized quality when he saw it and Josiah oozed it. He had even liked her when she was fat. Now sleek like a panther, he wondered if she was out of his league.

Goetz knew he was really just a broken-down hack parading in new duds. He looked at his reflection again. Who was he kidding?

How could a dame like Josiah fall for this run-down sack of goods? How indeed?

36

I
was helping Eunice when the landline phone rang. Knowing that I still didn’t like answering the phone, Eunice picked up the receiver. “Hello? Yes. This is Eunice. Yes, I can give her a message. Hmmm? Oh, that is terrible. I’m so sorry. Yes, I will tell her. Again, so sorry. Thank you for letting us know.”

Eunice put the receiver back into its cradle, looking thoughtful.

“What is it, Eunice?” My heart was flipping flapjacks.

“That was Mavis Bailey’s daughter. She said her mother died last night. Had a heart attack. Wanted you to know.”

“Oh dear. That’s terrible.”

“Didn’t you tell me that she saw her dead mother right after the police got there?”

“No. It was after I found her. She pointed and said that her mother was in the room.”

Eunice shuddered. “The Bible says there are no such things as ghosts.”

“Then whom did the Witch of Endor conjure up but the ghost of Samuel?”

“I keep forgetting that you were a professor of religious art,” remarked a frustrated Eunice.

“Nobody knows her Bible like a Southern Baptist girl.”

“That’s good because my church is having a Bible trivia game night. You are going to be in my group.”

“What’s in for me?”

“A cheap trophy and my eternal gratitude.”

“How can I resist such a winning combination?”

Eunice grinned. “I know I can win if I have you.”

“Pride goeth before a fall,” I cautioned.

“Actually, it is ‘pride goeth before destruction. And a haughty spirit before a fall.’ ”

“Point taken.”

“But I sure would like to win. Yes, I sure would like to win.”

I thought there may be more to this winning than the desire for a cheap trophy but decided against questioning Eunice further.

Goetz was on his way over.

It was almost time for Lady Elsmere’s party!

37

“I
feel stupid in this,” complained Goetz of his costume.

“You can’t back out now. You promised to help,” I reminded. “Here, help me with this zipper.”

Goetz smiled. “Gladly.”

“This new fondness for me is unnerving. Can’t we go back to you hating me?”

“I never hated you.”

“You sure acted like I was a pest.”

“You are a pest.”

“Oh shut up.”

“Quit squirming or this zipper is gonna stay stuck. Ahhhh. There it goes.”

“Thanks.” I turned to face Goetz. “Now, let me inspect you.”

Goetz was in a dark suit, holding a green apple and wearing a bowler hat.

“Are you supposed to be the man in the painting
The Son Of Man
by the Belgian surrealist Rene Magritte?”

Goetz shook his head. “
Thomas Crown Affair
with that other hot red-haired babe, Rene Russo.”

“It’s the same painting.”

Goetz raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know it was a real painting. I did it because it was the easiest get-up I could wear. Who are you?”

I twirled around so he could see the dress. I had bought a cheap gold lamé dress and painted geometric eyes and squares on it. “I’m Adele Bloch, painted by Bauer Gustav Klimt.”

“If you say so.”

“I was going to be Dora Maar. She was the . . .”

“Mistress of Picasso. Yeah, I’m not completely stupid.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Why are we dressing up again?”

“I suggested it.”

“Of course.”

“It would keep Jean Louis busy if we were to have a costume party, dressing as a character from a painting. Being as vain as he is, I knew it would keep him occupied, as his costume would have to be the most outlandish. Jean Louis always has to make a statement.”

“I don’t see why we don’t just haul him in for questioning. Hey, Jean Louis, did you hit an old lady on the noggin?”

“If he is really who I think he is, Jean Louis would never break. Never. He’s much too clever.”

“He can’t be that clever if you saw through him.”

I gave a teasing smile. “Maybe I’m more clever than he is?”

“You’re smart-dumb.”

I pulled back. Hadn’t I heard that recently? “What does that mean?”

“It means that there are people who have very high IQs, but do stupid things like involving the police in a harebrained scheme like this.”

“It will work. You’ll see.” Patting his chest, I gave him an inquisitive look. “Have you lost more weight?”

“What do you think?”

“About what?”

“How do I look?”

“What are you . . . a teenage girl?”

“My daughter says I look ugly sexy.”

“She does, does she? Well, daughters love their daddies.”

“That does it. Get your coat and let’s go.”

“Don’t get all huffy. You look good. Your daughter’s right.”

Goetz would not be placated. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

Twittering, I gathered my coat.

“You can be such an old biddy, Josiah.”

“Now you know how it feels to be played with,” I shot back. It was obvious that I was still angry over how I had been treated in the death of Richard Pidgeon.

“Are you going to forgive me? Ever?”

“Maybe if you killed for me.”

Goetz grabbed, pulling me toward the front door.

“And maybe if you quit handling me like a sack of potatoes.”

“You know, I’m beginning to see why O’nan wanted to shoot you. I want to shoot you myself sometimes.”

“Goetz, shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“
You
shut up.”

Goetz started to reply and then thought better of it. Constantly upbraiding Josiah was not going to get her in his bed. He was going to have to come up with a better strategy.

Thinking I had won the battle of the wills, I remained quiet on the trip to the Big House. I didn’t understand why Goetz was quiet too. Not then.

But he was busy planning.

38

J
ean Louis was a little overwhelmed. What was supposed to be a little friendly cocktail gathering had turned into a full-blown costume ball. He only assented after June had promised that he would make his plane in plenty of time. In fact, all of his treasured paintings had been packed and sent ahead.

Lady Elsmere stood beside him in the reception line greeting the aristocracy of Bluegrass life . . . the horse people, artists and politicians. A movie star sprinkled here and there along with TV people.

Jean Louis glanced at June, hoping that she was getting as tired as he was, but she was smiling and air kissing everyone. She seemed to be having a hell of a time. He just wanted to sit down.

“Hello.”

Jean Louis looked to where the sultry hello had sounded. Before him stood a ravishing creature with dark hair swept up with diamond pins, wearing a black satin dress with jeweled straps. She smelled of lavender.

“Madame X,” he inhaled as he beheld this angel.

The woman smiled. “Ah, you recognized the dress. I had an exact copy made.”

“
Madame X
. Virginie Gautreau painted by John Singer Sargent in 1884. It caused a scandal due to its sexual nature.”

“How could a portrait of a woman in a black dress standing with a table in front of a drab brown background cause a scandal?” smiled the woman.

“Because it was originally painted like this,” replied Jean Louis, reaching over and slipping the strap off her right shoulder so that it fell on the upper arm. Jean Louis stepped back and gazed at the vision. “Breathtaking. Simply breathtaking. You are truly Madame Gautreau. Madame X.”

“Oh, darling,” gushed Lady Elsmere, aka June Webster, “you made it.”

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. I just flew in from London.”

“Asa Reynolds, may I present Jean Louis to you.”

Jean Louis twitched a little upon learning the name, but he recovered quickly. Taking Asa’s hand, he lightly kissed it. “Enchanté. You are the daughter of . . . ”

“That’s right,” interrupted Asa, her dark eyes glittering in the candlelight. “Josiah Reynolds is my mother.”

“I see only a faint resemblance.”

“I take after my father.”

“I see. Perhaps we can share a few moments later on. Your choice of painting interests me.”

Asa beamed a bright smile in his direction. “I would love to talk with you, Jean Louis.”

“Darling, you can talk later,” interrupted Lady Elsmere, “but move along for now. You’re holding up the reception line.”

Asa laughed and glided into the hallway, grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter on the way to the ballroom.

Many heads turned and stared. Some clapped when they recognized whom she was impersonating.

Asa nodded, acknowledging their admiration. Along the way, she looked for her mother and Detective Goetz.

While Mrs. Astor could only accommodate four hundred of New York’s bluebloods in her ballroom, Lady Elsmere’s ballroom wasn’t designed for more than one hundred. It was already becoming a tight squeeze.

Asa found a quiet space in a corner of the candlelit room and scanned for her mother. She saw her on the other side dancing with Detective Goetz . . . and they were dancing very close. Too close, really.

Asa sighed. Maybe something was going on with her mother and Detective Goetz. That would take the sting out of telling her that Jake had remarried his ex-wife. But Asa still hadn’t decided if she was going to tell her mother. Asa knew that Josiah had really loved Jake. Maybe she should just stay mum on the subject.

Asa didn’t get much time to reflect as a man dressed as a rakish cavalier bowed before her.

Asa curtsied and held out one hand. “My lord.”

The man gently took her hand and led her out onto the dance floor. “You are Madame X. Who am I?” asked the dashing young man as he twirled Asa.

“You are my Lord and Liege, Charles II painted as a young man by Sir Peter Lely.”

“Perfect. Brains as well as beauty.”

“See that couple over there?”

Charles II looked to where Asa nodded. “Yes?”

“Take me over there. I want to talk with that woman.”

“Your wish is my command,” he quipped as he waltzed Asa in the direction of her mother.