The Cats that Stalked a Ghost (13 page)

“Want me to carry ya?”

“I’m okay,” she lied.  Stevie had enough things to worry about.  Number one, he was saving them. 

They walked into a clearing in the woods where Katherine observed several medium-sized, banded wood barrels, with corroded copper pipes sticking out of them, which snaked into other equally broken-down barrels.  A rusted pot-bellied stove was behind them, dangerously close to a shack that had seen better days.  The site was littered with broken Mason jars and other bits of debris. 

“Watch out for the glass,” Stevie warned.

“We can’t hide in there,” she said.  “That shack looks like it’s going to fall down any minute.”  Several young maple trees grew out of a gaping hole in the roof.

“We’re not.  Keep on walkin.’  Believe it or not, we’re very close to the Erie town limits.  There’s a buddy of mine who lives not far from here.”

“Can I please use your cell to call Jake?”

“Ma-waugh,” Scout agreed.

“Sure,” he said, setting Scout down, and extracting the cell from his back pocket.  When Katherine leaned forward to take it, a bullet hit the nearby tree, and startled the three of them. Scout darted into the woods.

“Get down,” Stevie ordered. 

The second bullet shot through the phone, and exited out the palm of Stevie’s left hand.  The third bullet hit him in the right shoulder, and he crumpled to the ground.  Dropping his gun, Stevie moaned to Katherine, “Run!”

Instead, Katherine took the gun, sprang behind the trunk of a huge Tulip
tree, and listened for any kind of sound — a leaf crunching, a branch moving, or a twig breaking — that would indicate the shooter’s location.  She prayed that Stevie was going to be okay, and that Scout had gotten away.  She flinched when a volley of shots hit the tree, and then heard the voice of an angry man.

“Come out from behind there.  How the hell did you get out of the storm cellar?”

It was exactly what Katherine needed to hear to pinpoint where the shooter was.  He was standing only a few feet in front of the tree.  She stayed where she was, and held her breath.  She waited for the man to step around the tree.  When he did, she raised the handgun and shot her kidnapper in the arm.  He dropped his gun, and clutched his wound. 

“I’ll make you pay for this,” he said threateningly.

“That ain’t no way to talk to a lady,” Stevie said. He staggered over to the man, and kicked the gun away.

Katherine rushed to Stevie’s side.  “You’re hurt.”

“Help me get my shirt off, so I can use it to stop the bleedin’.”

Katherine carefully pulled Stevie’s T-shirt over his head.  She’d remembered when Jake had been shot in the shoulder, and how he had gone into shock and passed out. 
But why is Stevie still standing
, she wondered.

“Thank you, Ms. Kendall, or is it Mrs. Cokenberger now?”

“Yes, it’s Mrs. Cokenberger, but you can call me Katz.”

Stevie smiled, then became serious, staring angrily at the man lying on the ground.

“Hey, Paul, you made a big mistake settin’ fire to my grandpappy’s barn.  I’ll see to it that it’s the last barn you’re gonna burn in these parts.”

Katherine dropped her jaw in startled amazement.  Stevie Sanders, whom everyone in town thought was a criminal, saved the day, and had caught the copycat arsonist. 

Paul started to get up.  Stevie shook his head, “Do
not
git up until I say so.”

Katherine asked, “How do you know Paul?”

“Paul’s son is being tried for arson,” he answered, then said to Paul, “Apples don’t fall too far from the tree, old man, do they?”

Katherine chimed in.  “I guess you’ve been the one setting fires around town to take the heat off your son.”

“You got that straight,” Paul said sarcastically.

Stevie offered, “Judge Hartman’s presidin’ over the case this Monday.  And she don’t play.”

Paul gave a sardonic laugh.  “No, she ain’t.”

“And why’s that, Mr. Big Shot?” Stevie asked.

“Because she’s dead.  Just heard it on the radio.  Got herself blown up —”

Katherine moved beside him.  “What did you just say?”

“Judge Hartman’s dead.  She got herself blown up big time.”

“Where? When?”

Paul ignored the questions, and said, “I’m bleedin’ on my shirt.  Do somethin’ about it.”

In a déjà vu moment of an event already played in Katherine’s dream, she tore a swatch of material from the hem of her wedding dress, and started to lean down to help the prone man.

Stevie took her by the arm, and led her a short distance away.  “Wait.”  Then he said to Paul, “This kind lady is goin’ help ya.  You do anythin’ stupid, and I’ll shoot ya right between the eyes.” 

Katherine looked at Stevie’s angry face, and suddenly understood why the Sanders’ family had a reputation for being formidable.  Although Stevie was gentle with her, he was not someone to be trifled with by anyone else.

“Okay,” she smiled.  “I’ll be careful.”  Katherine moved over to Paul, stooped down, and gently tied the fabric around his arm.  He murmured a weak “Thank you.”

“Why did you kidnap me?” she asked. 

“I thought you were the judge.”

“Did the radio say where the judge was when she died?”

“At Orvenia Colfax’s old house — the big pink one.”

Katherine panicked.  “My house blew up?”  A wave of terrified emotions ran through her mind.  She wanted to run, find help, and get back to the mansion. 

“That’s what the news said,” he answered with difficulty.  He clutched his arm even tighter.

They heard multiple sirens screaming in the country night. 

“Cavalry’s here,” Stevie said to Katherine. “I’m sure the chief will press criminal charges against me. I don’t know if that woman back there is dead or not; I hope she’s not.  If she is, I’ll be going back to prison for a long, long time.”

“No, Stevie, you don’t know that.  I’ll vouch for you.  From what I could see, you were defending yourself.”

“Katz, the gun I used isn’t mine.”

Katherine’s face dropped.  “Oh, no.”

A tall, heavy-set man ran down the path, waving a flashlight.  “Comin’ through,” he said in a gruff voice.

Katherine flinched.  The man had long, unkempt black hair, and looked like a younger version of Charles Manson.  She was surprised when Stevie spoke to him.  “Hey, Ted,” he greeted.

Ted came over, and beamed the light on Stevie’s wounds.  “Dude, we gotta get you to the doctor.”

“I got some explainin’ to do to Chief London, so I better wait,” Stevie answered.

Looking perplexed, Ted said, “Are you out of your mind?  You can’t just stomp out of the woods into the line of fire.  Erie cops will shoot you first, and then ask questions.”

“How’d you know I was here?  I didn’t text you.”

“I figured so much.  Psychic, I guess,” he answered mysteriously.  Then he spit out a wad of chewed tobacco into the weeds, and laughed, which sounded like a honking goose.  “I’ve got a police scanner app on my cell.  Dispatcher said Clint Sanders’ old barn was on fire, then something about you and a woman.”  Ted glanced at Katherine, “That be you, ma’am?”

She nodded.

Stevie said, “That’s Ms. Kendall.  She lives in the old Colfax house on Lincoln Street.”

“You must be the gal who inherited all that money.”

Katherine became more nervous than what she already was.  She didn’t like the last thing Ted said.  Was he going to kidnap her, too, and hold her for ransom?  Her vivid imagination didn’t even want to go there. 

Stevie said, “Katz, this is my buddy.  He’s the one I told you that lives close by.”

Ted said loudly.  “Yep, I thought I’d cruise on in the back way, and check it out.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Stevie asked.

“Erie bad boys need to be forewarned to get out of Dodge.  Comprendo?  Dude, you’re a person of interest.”

“I’ll go out first,” Katherine said, starting to walk down the path.  “I’ll get help and come back.”

“No, you ain’t,” Stevie protested adamantly.  “Word around Erie is that new cop in town, Officer Friendly, is trigger-happy.  I don’t want you to get shot.”

“I’ll take that chance,” she said stubbornly.

Stevie said to Ted, “Go with her.”

“No,” Katherine said.  “Someone needs to stay with you.”

Ted handed Katherine his flashlight.  “You the boss.  Just don’t forgit where we are.”

“And me, too,” Paul added, in a weak voice.

“Shut up, Paul,” Ted and Stevie said in unison.

Katherine proceeded down the path to the area of the dead trees.  She called Scout’s name, hoping her cat would appear out of the brush, and leap into her arms, but the Siamese didn’t appear. 
I’ve got to find her
, Katherine said under her breath, tears blinding her eyes and choking her voice. 
Where is she?
 

Chapter Nineteen

Russell Krow, reporter extraordinaire for the
Erie Herald
, was the first official to arrive on the scene at the old Sanders’ barn.  He looked around at the devastation, and figured his partner-in-crime had set another fire, but this time it was a big one.  Not only was the barn burned to the ground, but two vehicles had also been torched.

“Good show, my man,” he said out loud, as if he were talking to Paul.  “But why did you pick this piece of crap location?  You were supposed to burn down the pink mansion, you stupid jerk.”

He got out of his car, opened the trunk, and pulled out a tripod.  Carrying it, he walked briskly to a safe distance in front of the fiery inferno. He set up a camera atop the tripod, adjusting its height to take in the whole, glorious fire.  He turned the camera’s shutter speed to a lower setting for night shooting.  Checking that the settings on his camera were correct, he began taking photographs in rapid succession. 

When the chief arrived, Russell picked up his tripod and positioned it to face the entrance of the gravel lane.  He began videotaping the emergency vehicles arriving at the scene. The next vehicle to arrive was Erie’s fire truck, loaded to the max with firefighters, many of whom he knew. 

Sidney Black, the fire chief, rode up front with the driver, John Landers. Russell questioned whether the driver could even read a map. 
Must have good GPS
, he thought cynically.  Two ambulances pulled in, as well.  Officer Troy hadn’t mentioned anyone being injured.  He wondered who the buses were for, then noticed the overturned, partially burned Taurus several feet from the barn.  He cringed when he saw the Erie Realty sticker on the back windshield. 

Russell left his tripod, and stepped over to talk to Chief London, who had gotten out of his cruiser, and was talking on his cell.  Russell waited for the chief to end the call before he spoke, “Helluva scene.  Do you think it’s the copycat arsonist?”

“What are you doing here?” the chief asked suspiciously. 

“Chief, when I found out the reception at the armory had been cancelled, I was on my way home,” he explained.  “When I saw the barn burning, I stopped by to see if anyone needed help.  I was the one who made the 911 call.” 

Two EMTs walked by, and headed toward the Taurus. One of them called out, “Chief, over here.”

The chief hurriedly surveyed the situation, and said to the reporter, “Stand back.”  He stooped down to examine the woman lying on her stomach.  “Is she dead?” he asked the first EMT.

The EMT nodded.  “She was shot in the back.”  He turned the woman over, and pointed out the large, crimson stain on the front of her blouse. 

Russell spotted a pearl-handled pistol lying in a patch of dandelions.  He was reaching down to pick it up, when the chief ordered, “Don’t touch that.”

“I was just going to call it to your attention,” the reporter answered.

Lying next to the pistol was the woman’s purse.  The chief searched inside for identification, and pulled out her driver’s license.  “It’s Ava Franklin,” he said.

Russell tried to lunge forward to the victim, but the chief caught him by the arm.

“Not so fast,” he said.  “Do you know this woman?”

“She’s my friend,” Russell said, covering his face with his hands.  “No, not Ava,” he sobbed.

“What do you want me to do?” the EMT asked.

“Carefully stand back, and try not to disturb any evidence.”

Official Troy arrived on the scene, and picked up the gun with a stick.  “Chief, it doesn’t appear to have been fired.  It looks like she was taking the gun out of her purse when she got shot.”

The chief made a loud announcement to the growing crowd of emergency personnel and law enforcement agents.  “This is a crime scene.  Whoever shot this woman may be nearby.  Use extreme caution.”

“Why would anyone kill Ava?” Russell yelled over the din of emergency crew working the scene.

The chief faced Russell, and put his hand on his shoulder.  “I’m sorry for your loss, but this is a crime scene now, and we’ll treat it as such.”

“I’ve known Ava for a long time, and I didn’t know she owned a gun, or how to use one.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of this, but for right now, I want you to go home.”

“I beg to differ.  I’m a reporter.  I have a right to be here.”

“I’m not asking you to go home, I’m tellin’ ya.  Don’t leave your house.  I’ll stop by later.  We need to have a little talk about the fire at the pink mansion.”

The reporter turned on his heel.  “I’m going.  You just find the bastard who did this.”

***

When the bullets stopped flying, Scout trotted back to the scene, but found her human gone.  Two men lay on the ground:  the one who had helped them, and the other who had tried to kill them.  A big, hairy man who looked like a Sasquatch stood nearby. Scout didn’t like the looks of him.  The Siamese gave the large man a wide berth, and crept back into the weeds.  Following the edge of the path to its origin, Scout heard loud sirens, and saw the flashing lights of emergency vehicles.  She hid behind a rotted stump, and watched a family of raccoons scamper down the path.  They had been frightened by the loud sounds.

After they passed, she trotted to the opening in the trees.  Her Siamese eyes were excellent at seeing in the dark.  She scanned the area, but didn’t see Katherine.  She stood up on her hind legs and sniffed, pulling her lips back in the flehmen response.  Her sense of smell was even greater than her vision.  No Katherine.