C.F. Fowler - Marion Rogers 01 - A Ghost's Vengeance (6 page)

Chapter 8

  “How long have you been here?” Marion felt exposed.

  Catherine smiled and said, “Just a few minutes. I didn’t want to disturb your train of thought. I wanted to thank you.”

  “Thank me?”

  “Yes. You helped my girls understand what happened with the dog and my mother is getting the help she so desperately needs.”

  Marion thought about this and responded, “You’re welcome, but it’s what I do. I try to help where and when I can.”

  Catherine was clearly visible. She smiled and floated toward Marion. “I will help you. I tried to tell the policeman that the pedophile is no longer in the house being watched.”

  “He doesn’t have the gift.”

  Catherine responded, “People don’t necessarily need to possess the ability to hear or see spirits to get the message. Most feel an idea come to them and think it’s their own idea when sometimes it’s a spirit trying to guide them. Your friend resists my influence.”

  This was the first time Marion had heard of this. “He’s a strong-minded police officer. I can understand why he wouldn’t hear you. Where has Jergins gone?”

  “He hasn’t settled. I will contact you when he does.”

  This was good news; they had an agreement between them.

  “I will wait to hear from you, Catherine.”

  Catherine faded away and Marion called Gordon from her cell phone.

He was sitting outside Jergins’ current home, making sure he was unable to grab any children. She asked him for the address telling him she might need it if he was there when she arrived.

  She asked the accommodating hotel staff to call her a cab. Within 10 minutes she was on her way to surprise Gordon. Marion hadn’t been to San Diego in years. It’s called America’s Finest City and she couldn’t agree more. The air was cleaner than Los Angeles and the beach communities made the overall ambience casual and laid back.

  The cab dropped her off a block away from Jergins’ address, and she strolled down the street looking for Gordon’s car. She spotted him sitting a half a block down from the pervert’s house, looking like he was reading a newspaper. He wasn’t, of course, because he saw Marion as she approached, pushing open the passenger door as she walked up the sidewalk.

  Marion slid in and closed the door.

  “Hello, beautiful! Made pretty good time, didn’t you?”

  “I wanted to surprise you. Let’s grab an early dinner.”

  “Do we want to let this guy slip away?”

  “Oh, sorry, he’s gone. Catherine tried to tell you but you resisted her suggestion.”

  “Gone! Really? Where?”

  “Don’t worry about it. She’ll let us know when he settles. He can’t escape her.”

  Gordon resisted Marion’s suggestion as well, and got out of the car to check out the house he was watching. He found the back door open and the house empty. There was no sign anyone had lived there.

  As he got back in the car he said, mostly to himself, “Well that’s a waste of a few days!”

  Marion sat for a moment, giving him a little time to compose himself, and then said, “Trust me! He can’t get away from Catherine. He can’t hide from her.”

  Gordon was still visibly upset as Marion continued. “She tried to tell you. Did you feel at all the inclination to leave?”

  Gordon turned toward her and said with an air of absolute assurance, “Yes, I was overwhelmed with the idea to scrap the whole thing and go back to L.A. I just couldn’t.”

His head fell back against the headrest as he looked out the windshield. He seemed defeated.

  Marion sat quietly for a couple of minutes and then asked, “Okay, is that enough time?”

  “Enough time for what?”

  “Wallowing in defeat.”

  Gordon turned to Marion, his face half anger, half bewilderment. “Wallowing?”

  “Yes,” Marion said as she looked him in the eye. “That’s what I see. You feel he escaped you and take that as strike against your abilities. Am I wrong?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, then let’s stop that train of thought. You’ve heard the phrase marathon not a sprint? Well, that’s what this is. We have to let Jergins feel he eluded you. He’ll feel very good about himself and get cocky. We’ll get him.”

  Gordon thought this over. It was hard to admit she was right, so instead he asked, “What do you feel like for dinner?”

  “We’re in San Diego! Sea Food! Have you ever been to The Fish Market?”

  Gordon’s face broke into a smile. “No, so let’s go. I have a feeling you know it’s good and that’s good enough for me.”

  “Just head west to the Midway Museum. It’s next door and they have the kissing statue there on display. I’ve been wanting to see that while it’s here!”

  They arrived at the restaurant and, while waiting to be seated, took a stroll along the waterfront to see the “Unconditional Surrender” statue which depicts the famous photograph of a sailor kissing a nurse in Times Square at the end of World War II. Gordon asked an older gentleman sitting nearby to take a picture of them with his smartphone camera. As they positioned themselves in front of the 25-foot tall statue, Gordon embraced Marion and leaned over to kiss her in the same pose. Marion was taken by surprise, but went with it because it felt right. This man felt right, as no one had before. As they continued to kiss, the man with the camera cleared his throat. They straightened up and he said, “I’d keep taking pictures, but I think 15 is plenty.”

  Marion smiled as Gordon apologized and thanked the man as he slipped the phone in his pocket. They walked slowly back to the restaurant holding hands in silence. After an excellent seafood dinner with Crème Brûlée for dessert, they drove back to the hotel. Gordon walked Marion to her room. She opened the door and pulled him in, closing it gently behind them. Once again he embraced and kissed her, gently at first, then more and more urgently.

  The following morning Marion woke to her cell phone ringing. Gordon stirred as well, reaching for his phone on the bedside table.

  “It’s mine,” Marion said, trying to focus on the identification of the person calling. She answered the phone, “Josh, I’m on vacation!”

  “Yes, yes you are. Just wanted to find out when I can book you again.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Marion, it’s almost eleven. Are you still in bed?”

  “Eleven a.m. or p.m.?”

  “No windows where you are? Morning, girl, morning!”

  Gordon got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Marion felt her head clearing and replied, “I’ll be back in L.A. on Wednesday. That soon enough for you?”

  “Sure, and thanks for the report. I hope everything went well on the East Coast.”

  “Yes, very well. I’ll call you when I get back to L.A.” She ended the call and put the phone back on the bedside table. The toilet flushed, the bathroom door opened and Gordon came back to bed. Marion marveled at the chiseled features of his body. Some cops got used to being sedentary and they looked the part. Not this man. Oh Lord did she hit the jackpot!

  Gordon leaned over and kissed her gently. This time the lovemaking was slow, deliberate. She decided here and now this was the man for her.

  They ate breakfast at a nearby coffee shop, looking at each other but speaking little. As they strolled back to the hotel, Gordon asked what she was thinking.

  “Thinking? About what?”

  Gordon hesitated, then said, “About us.”

  They walked up the stairs to her room, she opened the door and said, “Come on in and I’ll show you what I think.”

  An hour later, as they lay in each other’s arms she said, “Does that answer your question?”

  Gordon smiled, kissed her, and said, “Yes. But I’m thinking about the long term. I don’t usually, but all I can think about in my future is you. Is this moving too fast?”

  Marion smiled and laid her head on his shoulder and said, “No! Not at all! I didn’t want to scare you off, but this morning all I could think of was you and me, from here on out. Sometimes you just know, you know what I mean?”

  Gordon smiled and stroked her hair, “Yes, so we’re on the same page here.” He hugged her and she hugged him back.

They packed and loaded Gordon’s car with their luggage and headed back to Los Angeles. The two-hour drive and moderate traffic gave them plenty of time to talk about their relationship. They shared a love for the same types of movies. She was an avid theater buff but Gordon had never been exposed to it and therefore had no opinion one way or the other, yet Gordon expressed interest in going to the theater with her. Marion was not a jogger, choosing a gym workout instead, but was willing to join Gordon on his early morning runs. They both liked music in general, not favoring any particular genre.
At one point during the drive home, when the conversation ceased, Gordon said quietly, “I wasn’t wallowing.”

Marion said, “What?”

“Outside Jergins’ place when I came back to the car. I wasn’t wallowing, I was considering how he got by me and what I should do next.”

“Yes, I know. I was just hoping to jerk you out of whatever ideas you were considering at the time. There was nothing to be done and Catherine is glued to him.”

“I wish I had the faith in your ghost that you have.”

“If you had met her family I think you would feel the same way I do. But I understand your apprehension.”

By the time Gordon reached Marion’s apartment they had already agreed to stay at each other’s home on alternating weeks. It might seem a bit fast, but it felt right.

Chapter 9

In the we
eks that followed, Marion and Gordon lost track of Jergins. Catherine did not appear with a location. But life went on. Marion and Gordon’s relationship continued to grow but, as time went on, Marion found it necessary at times, after returning from a job, to stay alone at her place. Sometimes the strain of the situation drained her. Gordon felt, if they had a future together, they should be able to deal with anything together. But as they were not living together yet, he acquiesced to her request, but not for long.

One Friday in October, Marion texted Gordon that she was flying home but needed a little solitude due to the taxing nature of the job. She would come to his place Saturday morning. Gordon decided the time had come to break through this barrier. He went to Marion’s apartment and chilled some wine, drew a hot bath with her favorite bath salts and put on a Debussy CD. Just as he came out of the bathroom, he heard the front door close. He stepped into the living room as Marion was setting down her luggage.

“Didn’t you get my text?” Marion asked.

“Yep, I sure did,” Gordon replied. “I hoped it was time you shared yourself with me when things aren’t so happy. I think I can take it and I don’t want you to shut me out.”

Marion stood still. He couldn’t tell her mood yet. She moved forward and kissed him quickly on the cheek and said, “I don’t think this is the sort of information you’d want to hear. I just need to decompress.”

Gordon watched her. “I understand. I have a hot bath ready for you. The music is playing and a glass of wine is within reach.” He picked up her suitcase and took it into the bedroom. “I am your humble servant, madam.” He picked up a bath towel and bowed to her.

Marion went into the bedroom, opened the suitcase and removed the clothing she felt might wrinkle and proceeded to remove her clothing. When naked, she went over to Gordon, embraced him and kissed him softly, then whispered, “Thank you.”

She went into the bathroom and slid into the tub. Gordon handed her the bath pillow and a wine glass. She laid back and took a sip of wine, closing her eyes to listen to “Clair de Lune.”

After about five minutes, she opened her eyes and looked at Gordon who was sitting on the closed toilet lid.

“There are times, in the course of my work, I hear how horrid humans can be. I wish I didn’t know this and I hate sharing it. No good can come from it.”

Gordon hesitated to carefully choose his next words. “You are the love of my life. I hope one day we will marry and spend the rest of our lives together. I need to know you will honor ‘for better or for worse’ when the time comes.”

Marion closed her eyes again and sipped more wine.

“I had a client whose family home was being haunted. Her family has lived in the house for generations, so she could not understand who would be trying so hard to frighten them out of the house: Books and papers flying around, doors slamming, dishes broken, the whole haunting routine.” Marion took another sip of wine before continuing. “The client’s great-great grandfather lived and raised a family in that house. But before he married her great-great grandmother, he was married to another woman and had a daughter. His first wife died when Bridget was just five. Bridget is the ghost haunting the house.” Marion took another sip of wine as Gordon listened.

“After Bridget’s mother died, her father said he couldn’t care for a little one on his own. He took her to a farm outside of town and told her the family there would care for her. She would need to do the chores assigned to her in payment for this kindness. She would also have to learn her catechism and attend church every Sunday.

“Bridget was cared for but not loved. The other children in the family had chores too, but they received store bought clothes and better food than Bridget. The couple reminded her that her work wasn’t sufficient for anything better.

“Bridget’s father came to see her one Sunday every month and spent the time asking her about her catechism and telling her she needed to work hard to pay her way. After six months, her father stopped by less and less, and after two years he stopped coming at all.”

Marion stopped and sipped more wine. She listened to a track of music she loved, then continued. “Bridget had to wear clothes donated to the church. Very often her shoes didn’t match because she couldn’t find matching shoes. The children at school made fun of her because it was well-known she was a servant, not worthy of friendship.”

Marion sighed. “After 6 years, Bridget was in the last grade of school she would attend. Back then, girls were not considered important to educate. Work was more important, especially when you were a servant. One of the girls at school told Bridget she had seen her dad in town at the drugstore every Sunday afternoon. Bridget figured that had to be a lie because he would come visit her if her could, but she felt she had to check it out for herself.

“She told the couple caring for her she was going to stay after church on Sunday to help the nuns. After church she walked to the drugstore and watched for her father. After an hour she saw him walking with a woman and three kids, a boy and two girls. She went in the shop and the ice cream clerk mentioned it would not be Sunday unless he and his lovely wife and children came in for ice cream. Bridget couldn’t believe her ears. She ran out of the shop and across the street, crying. When she saw him leave the shop, she followed them home, to her home. She remembered the tree her mother planted in the front yard.

“She went to the front door and knocked. Her father opened the door and instead of being happy to see her, he became angry. He took her out to his car and put her in the backseat. He drove her back to the farm telling her the whole way that he would have her put in an orphanage if she didn’t honor the deal with the couple caring for her.

“When they got to the farm, he took her by the arm and pulled her to the front door of the house. When the man answered the door he asked Bridget what she had been up to. Her father told him she knocked on his door. Then he spanked her. She had never been hit before. He told the couple she had it too good and needed more discipline and he didn’t want her near his family again.”

Marion stopped and finished the wine in her glass. She handed the empty glass to Gordon, who got up and refilled it. When he returned, Marion took another sip before continuing.

“Bridget was no longer allowed to go anywhere but school and church. She was the laughing stock at school. It turns out the girl who told her about her dad knew he remarried. She was given more work and less food. At her father’s suggestion, Bridget was brutally disciplined regularly for the least infraction — usually in the barn where the couple’s other children wouldn’t see what their parents were doing. They would tell her what they did was far less than what the nuns would do to her in the orphanage.

“After the school year, Bridget only left the farm to go to church. Once she turned 16, she ran away. She married a fisherman and raised a family. She never forgot about that other family living in her house. When she died she went there, determined to make those in her house pay for trying to claim what was hers.”

Marion drank some more wine and Gordon said, “I don’t blame her.”

“My client said her great-great grandfather was an abusive man. He screamed at and beat his second wife and his kids. She said there was a generation or two that drank excessively and abused their family as well. She said her father overcame this and tried his best to protect her and her siblings from abuse by other family members. Many had substance abuse problems and one of her uncles beat one of his kids to death in an alcohol-induced fury.”

Marion closed her eyes. “The client said she went to the graveyard once a month to spit on her great-great grandfather’s grave. She didn’t blame Bridget and told her she could have the house.”

Marion opened her eyes and looked at Gordon. She had tears in her eyes. He moved over to the tub and sat on the side as Marion finished the story.

“Bridget apologized and faded away. I think she left. She didn’t know the hell the other family went through living with that tyrant. How can anyone treat their own child like that?”

She opened her arms and reached for Gordon. He embraced her, bath-salted water and all. They held each other for a couple of minutes, then kissed.

Marion hugged him and said, “You’re right, this feels better. Thank you.”

She stood up and he wrapped the bath sheet around her. He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. They pushed the clothes and luggage off the bed. Gordon shed his wet clothes and they made love.
Marion never thought she could love Gordon more, but she did, much more.

As time went on, Gordon would ask if Catherine had contacted Marion with any news about Jergins. Marion always assured him she would let him know the minute she heard. Gordon was determined to act, if only to call the authorities in whatever jurisdiction Jergins called home.

Finally, on Halloween, Catherine came to Marion as they ate dinner. Gordon noticed Marion’s gaze fix on something he couldn’t see.

“He’s on the prowl. He hasn’t had a child in so long he’s going to grab one trick or treating,” Catherine said, agitated as she spoke to Marion.

“Where? Where is he hunting?”

“He’s in Visalia, on West Goshen near Adventure Park.”

Marion turned to Gordon and told him where Jergins was looking for his next victim. Gordon picked up his cell phone and left the room.

“How have you been, Catherine?” Marion decided to make some small talk while Gordon was making his calls.

“I feel like I’m in hell. This is not the afterlife I would have chosen.”

“Okay, they’re out looking for him,” Gordon said as he returned to the room. Catherine faded.

“She’s not enjoying this,” Marion said as Gordon sat down to finish his meal.

“There’s not much you can do. You didn’t sentence her to this. Is there anything she can do to get away from him?”

Marion drank some wine and replied, “Honey, I’m not an expert on the afterlife. Most of the ghosts I speak to desire to be where they are. I’ve seen men return to the Navy ships they served on. I’ve seen people return to the home they grew up in or the school they attended. This is the first time I’ve encountered someone who lived for vengeance or to punish. I’m not sure which motive Catherine originally had in mind.”

They continued eating and during dessert Gordon’s phone rang. He spoke briefly before ending the call.

“They found him and are following him.”

Later that evening Catherine returned. “He’s home and frustrated. He thinks it’s your fault he was tracked.”

“My fault? How did he come to that conclusion?”

“He knows he is still being haunted, and he knows you are the connection to the authorities.” Catherine faded out.

“He knows it’s me.”

Gordon’s brow furrowed, “I had hoped he had forgotten about you.”

“Should I be concerned?”

Gordon smiled and put his hand on hers and said, “No, he’s far away and a bit of a coward. Most pedophiles are.” Marion gave him a weak smile and put her head on his shoulder. Gordon continued, “I’m here to protect you. He won’t get close to you.”

They planned to spend Thanksgiving together alone watching football. Gordon’s family had invited them to dinner, but both Gordon and Marion felt meeting the family was too much too soon. When Thanksgiving passed, they discussed the holiday parties at their jobs. They decided it was time to attend the holiday parties as a couple.

Josh was the only person at Marion’s job that knew Gordon. She and Josh had been best friends since childhood and he had met Gordon when he stopped by Marion’s for a beer one evening. Gordon seemed leery that his girlfriend had a best friend of the male gender, but eventually accepted it.

“I see you went to Palm Springs last weekend. Did you have fun?” Josh asked with a smile.

“Oh yes, a lot of fun,” Marion answered smiling at Gordon.

Later Gordon asked Marion, “How does he know we went to Palm Springs?”

Patting her hip she replied, “He has his ways.”

Gordon reached into her hip pocket and pulled out her cell phone.

“He tracks you?”

“I told you, Josh always knows where I am. He pays the bills here, so yeah, he tracks all employees. It can come in handy sometimes.” 

Gordon slipped the phone back in her pocket and said, “I’ll keep that in mind next time you’re late meeting me.”

The other employees were happy to meet Marion’s ‘significant other’ at the company holiday party. Arnie and Ken had had plenty of dealings with police and felt more than comfortable around Gordon. All the guys advised Gordon not to gamble with Marion at the batting cages. Gordon’s interest was piqued as he and Marion had not discussed playing sports. He knew she was a Dodger fan. He had planned to surprise her with season seats next season. But now he was going to have to prod her about her ability to play sports.

“What’s this I hear about you and the batting cages?” Gordon asked as they drove home.

Marion just shook her head and said, “Oh, that’s nothing, just a bunch of sore losers.”

She explained that they had gone for hot dogs one evening and the guys each gave it a go in the cages. Josh didn’t think anything of it, but the other two gambled on who could hit the most in a dollar session. Arnie hit 10 of 20 while Ken hit 11 of 20. While they were arguing over the meaning of the difference of one hit, Marion put on a helmet, grabbed a bat and put four quarters in the machine. She hit 17 out of 20. Ken and Arnie gave her the money and never went to the batting cages with her again.

Marion explained, “Josh and I used to go for hot dogs at the batting cages near where we lived when we were teenagers. Neither of us were involved in team sports but we had fun hitting baseballs.”

Bringing fresh drinks to the couple, Josh added, “Sometimes we made the guys from our school team look bad. They would come to the batting cages for additional practice.”

Gordon turned to Marion and said, “That’s impressive! Seventeen out of 20!  You’d be an asset to anyone’s team, lady.”

“Not really,” Marion replied, “I throw like a girl. I never developed a proper throwing motion. But I’d make a good DH.”

A week later they attended a holiday party held at Gordon’s precinct. They agreed to tell them that Marion worked for a private detective agency and leave it at that. While some assumed her too beautiful to be a private investigator, one of Gordon’s colleagues, Detective Ted Simmons, said he could attest to it. He said she was rather extraordinarily gifted and then winked at Marion. She smiled and Gordon wondered what job she had done for Ted.