by Karen Golden
“Chirp,” Abby said, springing up. Katherine reached down and picked her up. Abby squeezed her gold eyes adorably.
“My sweet girl,” Katherine whispered. “Okay, new rule in the house, next time I have company, you guys are getting locked up.”
The three on the floor began to scratch themselves furiously, then flew into the next room. Katherine put Abby down. “You better join the race, baby doll.” Abby sped after them.
* * *
Katherine finished packing for her upcoming trip. Wheeling her large suitcase to the top of the stairs, she lamented about how much stuff she had just crammed into her luggage. She wasn’t sure what to wear, so she packed enough clothes to last a month. She struggled with the heavy bag, moving it one step at a time until she was able to roll it to the front door. She wasn’t leaving until the next day, but she wanted to scratch it off her to-do list.
With the packing done, she headed for her office to research the old accounting ledger she found the previous night. Clicking the mouse, Katherine woke up the computer. She logged in, then did a Google search for the word ‘elixir.’ She keyed in ‘medicinal elixir’ and was surprised to get thousands of results – all of them describing a liquid containing water, alcohol, sweeteners, or flavorings, used to administer drugs by mouth.
Then, she keyed in the year 1929. Multiple entries appeared on the screen, notably articles on the stock market crash and Prohibition. She clicked on the Prohibition link and began reading the online reference. “Prohibition was a period of fourteen years of U.S. history in which the manufacture, sale, and transportation of liquor was made illegal.” Fourteen years, she thought, then read more, “Dates: 1920—1933.”
“Oh, my God,” Katherine cried out loud. She whipped out her cell phone and called Colleen, who answered it on the second ring. “Can you talk?” she asked.
“Sure, I’m walking over to meet Mario at that Mexican place by Grand Central. What’s up?”
“I found an old shoe box last night,” Katherine began. “Actually, judging by the number of fang marks, the cats found it.”
“Your great aunt left you shoes?” Colleen said facetiously. “Was this before or after the ghost?”
“Too funny,” Katherine chuckled. “There was a bunch of stuff belonging to my great uncle.”
“This stuff must be ancient,” Colleen pronounced.
“Yeah, try the 1920s. I found these foil labels with Colfax Medicinal Elixir embossed on them.”
“I’ve heard Mum call cough syrup an elixir,” Colleen added. “I thought your great uncle was a banker. Was he a doctor also?”
“No, Colleen. I did some research. I can’t be sure, but I think he was a bootlegger!”
“A what?” Colleen screeched on the other end.
“I think Colfax elixir was booze! I have a strong hunch that’s where he made his fortune.”
“Get outta town,” Colleen said jokily.
“It was the 1920s – Prohibition? I’ve got to go down to the Erie library and see if they have any newspaper articles from that time.”
“I hate to blow your theory, Katz, but the paper won’t have anything on bootlegging because it was illegal.”
“I want to see if I can find any mention of my great uncle. I’m so curious.”
“Curious like a cat, Katz,” Colleen snickered.
“Listen, I’ll let you go.”
“Can’t wait to see you!” Colleen said heartily.
“Me, too! Say ‘hi’ to Mario.” Katherine tapped the end button, then checked on the cats. While she was talking on the cell, they had returned to the room and were now fast asleep in their cozy beds. Lilac and Abby were snuggled in one, with Scout and Iris in the other. Scout was snoring softly; one fang showed.
Chapter Three
Katherine trudged down the sidewalk, dodging large puddles of water, which had accumulated from last night’s storm. The library was only four short blocks from the pink mansion, so she thought she’d get her daily walk and wouldn’t have to venture out later. She was halfway to the library when a green Honda pulled up. The passenger – a woman Katherine recognized as the owner of Little Tomato Bed & Breakfast – opened the window. Mark sat behind the wheel.
“Hello,” he said, smiling. “Where are you heading? Do you need a lift?”
Katherine was so surprised to see Mark with Carol Lombard that she stuttered, “Just the library.”
Carol said a lame hello. “I hope you brought your umbrella because we might get more rain.”
“I left it at home,” Katherine shrugged.
Mark got out of his car and rummaged in the back seat. “Here,” he said, handing Katherine an umbrella. “I’ve got a million of them,” he laughed. “Listen, I still don’t have your house key.”
“I was going to drop it off at your office, but since you’re here, I’ll give it to you now.” She opened her handbag and pulled out an envelope. “I’ve also written some instructions. If you have any questions, just call or text me.”
“Sure thing,” he said. “You have a wonderful time, and tell Colleen I said ‘hello.’” He walked back to his car and got in.
“Yes, have a wonderful time,” Carol said politely, but with a slightly hostile glint in her eye.
Katherine stepped back to the sidewalk and watched the two leave. Bummer, she thought. Why does Carol have to look like a blonde fashion plate all the time? She’d suspected the two of them were an item, but seeing them in person drove a wedge into her heart – a jealous one. Suddenly depressed, she just wanted to go back home and curl up with the cats, but forced herself to finish the task at hand.
She found the library, which was a two-story, Italian Renaissance Revival. Before she entered, she read the National Register of Historic Places plaque. The building had been built in the nineteen twenties using a grant from a well-known New York industrialist. I wonder if my great uncle sent him a case of “medicinal elixir” to thank him for his kind gesture, she thought, then laughed at her own joke. Another placard announced the completion of the restoration project, which began three years earlier. She wiped her shoes on the welcome mat, opened the heavy front door, and tread softly on the wall-to-wall carpeting. A young woman dressed all in black came out from behind the counter. She had short brown hair, and wore a turtleneck, tights, and black ballerina slippers. “May I help you?” the clerk asked, smiling.
“Yes,” Katherine said. “I’m conducting research on the Colfax house.”
“Oh, you mean the pink murder house?”
Katherine looked down, then back up, “I’d kinda not want to be known as the woman who lives in the murder house, so would you kindly not refer to it as such.”
“I’m so sorry,” the young woman explained, embarrassed. “I’ve put my foot in it, I’m sure. Are you the gal from New York – Mrs. Colfax’s niece?”
“Yes, great niece. I’m Katherine, and you’re . . .?”
“Michelle Pike. Listen, I’m so sorry for the stupid thing I just said. Let me start all over again. How can I help you?” she asked brightly.
“I’m looking for Erie newspaper articles from the 1920s.”
“Those would be on microfilm.”
A woman came out of her office and said to Michelle, “I’ll take care of this. Go sort the book shipment we just received.” Michelle nodded, then walked to the table at the back of the room.
“Beatrice?” Katherine said, surprised, recognizing the not-so-much cat lover from the Erie Historical Society.
Peering over her glasses, Beatrice said, “Yes, I wear many hats in this town. I forgot to mention I’m also head librarian here at the Erie library. We haven’t had anyone ask for the Erie Herald on microfilm for a long time, then two of you express interest in the same day. What is it you are looking for?”
“Oh, I basically wanted to browse the newspapers. I don’t have time today to start my research, but I’ll come back another time. Do you have a microfilm reader?”
Beatrice nodde
d. “We have the Erie Herald from that timeframe, but I don’t believe we have every year. What is it you wish to know?”
Katherine was getting annoyed at Beatrice’s thirty questions. “I just wanted to see if I could find an old photo of my house. That’s all,” she lied. In reality, she wanted to find out if her great uncle was a bootlegger, but why tell the nosy Beatrice that little ditty about Jack and Diane?
“When you come back, make sure you ask for me and I’ll assist you. Sometimes the machine has a mind of its own,” Beatrice said in a sugary voice.
“Thanks so much.” Katherine turned and glanced out the window. Heavy droplets of water slammed against the glass. “Dammit,” she muttered.
A man sitting at a nearby table said, “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help overhear your conversation with Biddy.”
“Biddy?” Katherine asked, moving over to the table. That’s certainly an appropriate name for Beatrice, she smiled to herself.
“Beatrice’s nickname,” he laughed. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Jake Cokenberger.” He extended his hand.
Katherine shook it. “Are you related to Cokey?” she asked.
“I’m his nephew,” Jake answered. “How do you know my uncle?”
It was at this point that Katherine realized how handsome Jake was – brown hair, intense brown eyes, good build, great dresser. “Oh,” she stammered, then said, “He works for the Colfax estate. I’m Katherine Kendall, but my friends call me Katz.”
“Oh, you’re the Ms. Kendall. Yes, my uncle has mentioned you. You live in Orvenia’s old house and you have cats. Care to join me?” he asked, motioning for her to sit down. “I think we have a lot in common.”
“What do you mean?” Katherine asked suspiciously, standing behind a chair, but not sitting down.
“I’m also interested in the Erie Herald.”
“And, why is that?”
“I’m on sabbatical. I teach at the university in the city.”
“In what field?” she asked, feeling more at ease.
“History,” he answered. “I heard you ask Biddy for newspaper articles from the twenties. That’s right up my alley. I teach a course on famous gangsters of that time period. You’ve heard of John Dillinger?”
“Who hasn’t?” Katherine noted.
“John Dillinger was born in Indianapolis.”
“That I did not know,” she said.
“Don’t get your hopes up about finding what you want, because a fire in the forties wiped out a significant number of documents. I’m surprised Biddy didn’t mention it. I’m going to visit another library out-of-town tomorrow to see if they have the Erie Herald.”
“This is probably a dumb question, but can’t you Google up the Erie Herald? I should have thought of it earlier.”
“You can access bigger city archives online, but little towns like Erie, you’ve got to research the old timer way,” Jake said with a smile.
Fascinated, she asked, “Combing the libraries, right?”
“So you’re interested in an old picture of your house. Looks like Biddy could find you one.”
Katherine didn’t answer, but started to turn away.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “It’s a terrible habit of mine. I listen to other people’s conversations.”
She smiled. “I’m actually interested in my great uncle William Colfax.”
“That’s easy,” he said, shoving a book across the table. “It’s the book of Who’s Who in Erie County. See if he’s listed.”
Katherine went to the index, found his name, then turned to the page. “Wow! Three pages. I’ve got to get a copy of this,” she said, heading for the copy machine. After she finished, she returned the book to Jake. As she handed it to him, a gust of wind slammed against the building, followed by a loud clap of thunder.
“Great,” Katherine complained. “I have rotten luck.”
“Did you walk here? I was just leaving. I can give you a lift,” he offered.
“How do I know you’re not the Boston strangler?” she asked coyly.
“Because we’re not in Massachusetts,” he quipped. “My vehicle is parked outside, but first,” he said, “let’s talk to Biddy. She’ll let you know if I’m to be trusted. Hey Biddy, could you come over here for a minute?”
Beatrice came over and winked at Jake. “Yes?” she inquired.
“Am I a mass murderer?” he smirked.
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Because Katherine, oh, I mean Katz, walked here and is now in need of a ride home.”
“Katz,” Beatrice said. “He’s perfectly safe. I’ve known him since he was this tall,” she said, gesturing a low height with her hand.
Katherine relaxed. “Let’s go for it!”
Jake gathered his papers and put them in a folder. He slipped on his leather jacket, then said, “This way.” Katherine followed him out of the library, but before she left she turned to say good-bye to Biddy, but Beatrice was talking animatedly to someone on the phone.
Jake’s vehicle was an older model Jeep Wrangler. He opened her door and said, “Grab the bar over the glove box and pull yourself in.” She did as directed and seated herself in the Jeep. Reaching inside her bag, she pulled out a tissue and wiped her face.
“Wish I’d brought a towel,” Jake said, getting in, “but didn’t expect it to rain until later.”
After he buckled up, he stepped on the clutch. He turned the key and the Jeep fired up. Letting up on the clutch, he pressed the accelerator. “I know the way,” he said, pulling out onto Lincoln Street.
“I want to thank you for taking me home. I really appreciate it. Are you from here?”
He nodded. “My parents actually live next door to Uncle Cokey. While I’m on sabbatical, I’m renting an old farmhouse several miles from here.”
“Cool,” Katherine said. “Does your wife like living there?” she asked, fishing for information, having already noted he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
“Ah, that’s a good one,” he laughed, knowing exactly what she was doing. “I’m not married. I’m not dating anyone. And, I don’t have any psycho ex-girlfriends trying to kill me,” he said, making a reference to his uncle and the now imprisoned Patricia Marston.
“Feeble, right? I’m really not good at this,” Katherine said, embarrassed, her face turning three shades of red. “Out of practice, I guess.”
Jake snickered. “I’m just messing with you. Well, here we are,” he said, parking in front of the mansion. “We need to get together soon and talk about the roaring twenties. Do you want to join me tomorrow at the other library? I can pick you up. It’s only a few miles from here.”
“I’ll be out-of-town for a few days. I won’t be back until Monday.” Then she thought, Why the hell did I just tell a perfect stranger I wouldn’t be home?
“Are you busy right now?” he asked. “I think we need a coffee break.”
“Sure,” she said hesitantly, wondering if he was fishing for an invitation inside.
He smiled. “There’s a diner up the road. Their coffee is so-so, but their pie is incredible.”
“Did you say pie?” Katherine asked, suddenly perking up at the thought of a wedge of coconut cream.
Jake read her mind and said, “Best coconut cream in the entire state!”
“You must be psychic. That’s my favorite, also!”
Pulling back onto the street, Jake drove to the Red House diner. The parking lot was full of pickup trucks. He found a spot behind the restaurant. “I must warn you,” he began. “This is the gossip hour. When you walk in, all eyes will be on you. The room will get very quiet, so quiet you’ll be able to hear a pin drop. Then the tongues will be a-flappin’.”
“Thanks for the heads up,” she said, amused.
They found a booth and sat down. After a few moments, the men started chatting again. “Case closed,” Jake said, laughing.
“Interesting that the men are the ones who gossip,” Katherine observed.
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br /> “This is Erie’s version of Facebook. Each table is a social network on its own.”
“Oh, really,” she said with a gleam in her eye.
“See that table over there?” Jake said, pointing to a group of men with ball caps. “That’s the fixers. If you want something fixed, you go over there. Cokey usually sits there.”
“What about that table over there, by the door?” Katherine asked.
“Only the big cheeses from the factory sit there.”
“And that table with the loud laughter?”
Jake said with a smirk. “That’s the liars’ table. You want to stay away from that one.”
“All these facts are good to know,” she smiled.
The waiter came up and set down two mugs with steaming coffee.
Katherine asked, “How did you know we wanted coffee?”
The waiter, a middle-aged man with a crop of graying hair smirked. “Duh, because it’s coffee hour.”
Jake rolled his eyes, then said, “Frank, we’ll have two pieces of your coconut cream.”
“Sure thing,” the waiter said, leaving. He returned with two giant wedges.
Jake nodded. “Well, dig in,” he said to Katherine.
As they began to eat the pie, Katherine asked, “How long have you been teaching at the university?”
“A few years now.”
“Do you like it?”
“Sometimes, and sometimes not. If I have a class where the students are super-interested, it makes my job a lot easier.”
“How did you get into gangsters?” She asked, with a dollop of cream on her chin.
Jake reached over with his napkin and wiped it off. Katherine was momentarily flabbergasted by the gesture, because a man had never done that before.
“My doctorate was on the poisoning effects of illegal alcohol during Prohibition. Thousands were poisoned each year by the booze they drank to be happy. I teach this topic in my classes, but there was also a lot of crime associated with the Volstead Act,” he explained.
“Is that the law that made it illegal to drink alcohol?”
Jake nodded. “And, that’s where the gangsters come in. Every semester when I start that part of the course, I dress up like John Dillinger. The students love it!”