C.F. Fowler - Marion Rogers 01 - A Ghost's Vengeance (3 page)

  Marion smiled. She felt sure that Gordon would keep an eye on Jergins. “Thank you. That’s a load off my mind. I have no way to contact Catherine other than through Jergins.” She smiled, “I may have to hog-tie him when I come back, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

  Gordon laughed imagining Marion hogtying the little pervert and proceeding to sit calmly while conversing with the ghost. “Thanks for that image. I’d pay good money to see that!” They both laughed.

Marion stood and walked to the patio door. She opened it and stepped out. The weather was mild. Under other circumstances she would have invited Gordon to sit and enjoy the day with her.

Gordon followed her onto the patio. “What a beautiful day!” He looked at Marion and was struck by her confidence in the situation she was facing. “Marion, please be careful. I don’t know what might be waiting for you in New York, but be careful. Promise you’ll call if you need anything. I do have some contacts on the East Coast.”

  Marion smiled. This man seemed very special and she wished she had time to explore just how special he might be. “I’m sure I’ll be perfectly safe. My biggest hurdle is getting the information I need without telling anyone why I need it.”

  Gordon smiled a tentative half smile and took her hand in his. He squeezed it and said, “Let’s get together when you get back, socially that is. I’d enjoy seeing you without ghosts or pedophiles in the mix.”

  Marion smiled and whispered, “I’d like that.”

Chapter 4

  On the redeye, Marion tried to study the file but her mind kept wandering back to Gordon. She had never met anyone like him. She hadn’t known him long, but his acceptance of her gift and willingness to help her save Catherine made him a rare standout to her. She eventually returned her focus to the file, making a list of people to talk to and places to visit. She hoped to summon Catherine to her children, but that would take a lot of explaining and, less likely, acceptance of her by Catherine’s family. She tried to remain positive. She would try speaking to Catherine’s mother, if possible. But first she wanted to see the house where Catherine and her husband had lived. She wanted to talk to the neighbors and the husband’s co-workers, if possible.

  When the plane landed, Marion made a beeline for the car rental courtesy bus. She was thankful that she packed light and had only carry-on luggage. Waiting at a luggage carousel was torture and a huge waste of valuable time. Marion had no idea how long she had to figure out a game plan, but time was of the essence.

  After getting into her rented Explorer, she programmed the GPS for Hartsdale. The drive was 30 miles but the traffic was a bear. Marion pulled into a café in Hartsdale around 9 a.m. for breakfast. She realized she hadn’t eaten in the last 24 hours and was starved. She sat at a table and was talked into an omelet by the waitress who claimed they were known for their omelets. Once she had eaten, she decided to walk around the community to get the feel for Catherine’s life. The weather was cooler than Los Angeles, and the community was quieter.
What a pleasure
, Marion thought.
What an ideal environment
.

  When an hour had passed she found herself in front of Catherine’s former home. It was a lovely two-story house. She had no doubt it was close to 100 years old, or that it was expensive. This community was priced to keep the riff-raff out. While looking at the house, she imagined Catherine readying her children for school, making their lunches, and preparing breakfast for the family. She didn’t realize the current tenant had taken notice of her staring at the house. A young, blond woman approached Marion and asked, “Are you looking for someone?”

  Marion jumped slightly, startled out of her thoughts, and responded, “Oh! I’m sorry. My mother told me of family friends that used to live here. I just hoped to come by and see if they were still here. The house is so charming you caught me admiring it.”

  The woman smiled and said, “Not a problem! We love it, too. My name is Charlotte. Charlotte Benning. Who were you looking for?”

  “The Goodmans,” Marion replied.

  Charlotte’s expression quickly saddened. “I’m sorry you made the trip. The news isn’t good. The Goodmans passed away.”

  Marion played ignorant, “Really? Both of them? They were fairly young!”

  “Yes, it was tragic. She died of a brain hemorrhage and he died of a broken heart, bless his soul.”

 
Bless his soul
, Marion thought,
not the words I would use
. “How does one die of a broken heart?”

  “Oh, he fell down the stairs.” Charlotte responded. Then in a whisper she said, “He had been drinking. They said he gave up his children shortly after Catherine died and then dove head first into the bottle. Poor man, he must have loved her so much.”  Charlotte turned toward the house and continued, “My parents bought the house from their estate. My husband and I were newlyweds. What a thoughtful gift, don’t you think?” Charlotte turned to Marion, awaiting an answer.

  “Oh yes, and generous! How do you know so much about the Goodmans?”

  “The realtor made sure we knew the all the facts before the purchase was complete. I think it’s the law. I’d hate to think it was just gossip.” Charlotte turned back toward the house, “Would you like to come in and see the house?”

  Marion smiled, “Yes that would be great!”

  Charlotte was 5’5” with a slender build that might make someone think she was a teenager although she was in her mid-20s. Her manner was bubbly and cheerful. As they entered through the back entrance, Marion found herself in a modern kitchen with a great aroma wafting through the air. It wasn’t hard to imagine the charmed life Catherine thought she had.

  “I’m making some goodies for my church’s bake sale. Let me just pull the cookies out of the oven and I’ll give you the grand tour.” Charlotte used an oven mitt to remove freshly baked cookies from the oven.

  “Those smell amazing!” Marion said. Charlotte beamed with pride.

  “That’s one of my talents: baking. I’ve never had a problem making baked goods. Bobby says that’s how he knew I was the woman he wanted to marry.” She pointed to a picture on the wall. “That’s my Bobby,” she said proudly.

  Marion looked at the picture of a tall and handsome young man wearing a cap and gown. “He’s handsome! What college did he graduate from?”

  “Columbia. He holds a degree in biomedical engineering. He’s working toward his Ph.D.” Charlotte beamed as she spoke of her husband. Marion hoped this house would be better for the Bennings than it was for the Goodmans. Charlotte headed for the door and turned to Marion, saying, “Follow me and I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

  Marion followed Charlotte into a dining area large enough for family dining but not entertaining. As they moved from room to room, Charlotte gave her a summary of the design changes they made upon purchasing the house. As they entered the living room, Charlotte continued with her description but Marion’s eyes were transfixed on the stairway. She saw Peter Goodman fall down the stairs, disappear, then fall down the stairs again. The image was clear enough to see the drunken look on his face. It didn’t appear he was even aware he was falling to his death. Each cycle took about a minute. Charlotte noticed Marion’s attention drawn to the stairs.

  “You’ve noticed the creaking noises, haven’t you?” she asked matter-of-factly.

  Marion was startled by the question and responded, “Yes, what is it?”

  Charlotte smiled. “At first,” she said rather excitedly, “I hoped the house was haunted. Those are the stairs Peter fell down. But Bobby said the house has some defects and the creaking is normal.” She was clearly disappointed by her husband’s explanation.

  “So you would rather your house be haunted?” Marion found this young woman to be quite personable.

  “Oh yes! Wouldn’t that be great! I’ve always wanted to live in a haunted house.”  Charlotte continued up the stairs, past the tumbling drunk on the stairs, and Marion followed. She knew there was no talking to this spirit. He was just repeating the circumstance of his death, over and over and over again. It was like seeing a video on a loop. The spirit wasn’t aware of them and she was happy to leave it that way. The one answer she got from this tour was that Catherine’s husband tripped and fell at the top of the stairs. That was evident once she saw the scene from above. She saw the man’s foot catch on something, something that was no longer there.

  “Was the carpet replaced here?” she asked Charlotte. “Was there something that poor man might have actually tripped on?”

  Charlotte reflected on that and then said, “As a matter of fact, the carpet was loose around the top of the stairs. We had it all torn out anyway because the color wouldn’t work for us. I guess in his inebriated state, the poor man forgot about the carpet bunched at the top of the stairs.” Charlotte looked sad and shook her head. “Poor man.”

  “Yes, that poor man,” Marion responded feeling a little sick as she said the words.

  When the tour was complete, Charlotte invited Marion to enjoy some coffee and freshly-baked cookies. Marion found this woman to be an absolute delight. Charlotte loved to talk about her life in Hartsdale. She was so proud of her husband and very involved in the activities at her church. Marion knew she would make an excellent mother if blessed with children.

  As the conversation turned back to the Goodmans, Marion asked, “Do you know where Catherine’s mother lives?”

  “Let me think,” Charlotte said as she looked down and considered the question. “She used to live in Scarsdale but I think they said she moved to Rye after her daughter died.” Marion thought,
this woman is a treasure
!

  When they had finished, Marion stood. “Well, thank you so much, Charlotte. I can’t tell you how helpful you’ve been. I’m going to try to find Catherine’s mother if I can. Pay my respects.” She held out her hand, “And tell Bobby good luck getting that doctorate, I’m sure he’ll do great things.”

  Charlotte rose and shook Marion’s hand. Beaming, she said, “Oh I know he will. He’s very smart and driven.”

  As Marion drove away she wondered what effect Peter Goodman might have on the happy couple.
If they haven’t felt his melancholy by now, they probably never will
, she thought.

  Marion drove the 20 minutes to Rye. Traffic moved smoothly and she found a hotel from a national chain right there in Rye. She checked in and unpacked, then turned on her computer to research Catherine’s mom. She couldn’t get all the information she wanted, so she located the nearest public library in Harrison, just three miles away. This area of New York was lovely. It was a joy to get out of Southern California if only for a few days.

  At the library, Marion obtained copies of the local newspapers from Hartsdale and Scarsdale on microfiche. The stories in each paper laid out the story similarly, except the Scarsdale paper slanted the story more toward Catherine’s mother and family history in Scarsdale.

  Catherine’s mother, Adele, was raised in the Scarsdale area. She was a member of a prominent family before marrying William Montgomery, an accountant and financial planner, who died while Catherine was a teenager. Adele moved from Scarsdale to Rye after taking Catherine’s children in the hopes they would have a clean slate in a different community. If that was her hope, she should have moved to another state, so the reason for moving such a short distance away wasn’t clear. Marion found no mention of sexual abuse. She assumed this was due to the stigma attached to victims of such abuse. After three hours in the library, Marion felt she had all the information available there.

  She stopped at the store for some groceries, then headed back to the hotel and ate lunch. She called Gordon and found that Jergins had moved into a home in a San Diego suburb. From the description of Jergins’ demeanor, Marion assumed Catherine was still there. Confession or death. Those were the only options Catherine would accept. Maybe Marion should try relaying this to Jergins. He should at least be aware of his options. But it was his choice to run.

  Gordon was sweet. He was concerned for her and curious as to what she was up to. It was best he not know until she had a better idea of how to resolve the situation.

  Marion called Josh. She always checked in with him in case of an update. Josh wanted to know if she was available for a job in New York. A pro-bono alert had come up when Marion arrived in Rye. After some hemming and hawing, she accepted the information and waited for Josh to set up a time for her to work the assignment.

  In the meantime, she had a background story ready and headed over to see Catherine’s mother. This was a delicate operation but Marion assumed she had enough information to convince Adele to cooperate with her plans. Catherine’s children were old enough to understand the situation, but it would be up to Adele.

  The address in Rye was a lovely two-story home with a U-shaped driveway and immaculately mown lawn. Marion decided to park on the street rather than pull into the driveway. She walked up to the door, took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

  A woman wearing a maid’s uniform answered the door. She was in her 30s and looked to be Hispanic. Marion asked for Mrs. Montgomery and was shown to the living room to wait. Marion looked around the room before sitting. It was beautifully furnished with four Queen Anne chairs, two on the far left and two on the far right side of the room, with accent tables between each pair. A sofa and love seat with a white marble cocktail table sat in the center of the room. The upholstery was off-white; the floor was beautiful hardwood with oriental rugs. Marion went to the backyard sliding glass door. Her gaze was fixed, not on the spacious backyard with impeccably manicured hedges, or the expansive lawn with swings. She stood transfixed and watched a German Shepherd lying on the patio. The dog’s head was up and looked like it was enjoying a beautiful symphony with its eyes closed and gently panting. She quickly developed a whole new strategy for Adele to cut to the point quickly.

  Adele Montgomery entered the room. She was in her 60s but looked more fiftyish. She wore an expensive blouse and pants and looked like she visited the hairdresser weekly. Adele walked toward Marion, smiled and said, “Hello, I’m Adele Montgomery. How can I help you?”

Marion smiled and said, “Hello, Mrs. Montgomery. I’m here to ask you to help me help your daughter, Catherine.”

Adele’s smile faded from her face. “My daughter is deceased. She is beyond my help.”

  Marion replied, “I have been in contact with your daughter’s spirit. She is in danger of doing someone harm and I think you are the only one who can stop her.”

  Adele looked at once uncomfortable and angry. But before she could respond Marion said. “I noticed your dog out back there. It belonged to someone who died recently; an elderly woman who wore a pink flowered housedress and fluffy pink slippers.”

  Adele stood frozen, as if she were a mannequin. Before she could speak, Marion said, “I can see her out there stroking the head of the German Shepherd on the patio. The dog seems to be enjoying it, so she must have been someone it loved.” 

  With that Marion turned and opened the sliding glass door and approached the dog. As she crouched down to pet the dog she looked at the ghost and said, “Hello, my name is Marion. Is there a reason why you linger here?”

  The spirit smiled and looked relieved. “Yes! Thank you! I lived next door. My name is Golda Braunstein.” The spirit paused and looked down at the dog. “I loved my Hazel so much. I asked Adele to take her if something happened to me. Poor thing.” She scratched the dog’s ear. Her voice was deep and gravelly, and she spoke with a Yiddish accent. “Unfortunately, all she does is feed her. My poor girl is starved for affection.”

  Marion turned to Adele, who was staring at her from the patio door. She said, “Golda had hoped you would give Hazel here some affection. Feeding her isn’t enough, she needs love.”