2 The Cats That Chased the Storm

by Karen Golden

“I stayed at Cokey’s last night. Cokey’s wife has rented me her bungalow on Alexander Street. Power or no power, I’m moving in tomorrow.”

  “Figure out what you want to move. I’ll hire a crew to help you. Talk to you later. Bye now,” he said, hanging up.

  Immediately the cell rang again; it was Margie.

  “You ready for lunch, kiddo?” she asked happily.

  “Why, yes! I’m starving.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there in a jiff. I got some sandwiches made for the guys. I’ll drop them off, but you and I can eat lunch at your new place.”

  “My new place? Super!” Katherine said excitedly.

  Within a few minutes, Margie pulled up in Cokey’s Dodge Ram. Katherine met her at the door. “What a mess!” Margie said, shaking her head. “Well, it’s official. Just talked to some Indy Energy workers up the street. They seem to think we won’t have power until tomorrow, so you know what that means?”

  “Yes, to Jake’s we go! But does he have room for me? I’ll need to bring my cats.”

  “He’s got plenty of room, so where’s the guys?”

  “In the basement.”

  “Okay, I’ll run lunch down to them, and when I come back, we’ll load your stuff in the truck.”

  “Great!” Katherine already had the packed suitcase, but she ran upstairs for her makeup and hair products. Can’t look a fright in front of Jake, she thought, then giggled.

  Hurrying back, Katherine met Margie at the foot of the stairs.

  “They’re famished! Hope I made enough!” Margie worried.

  “I’m sure they’ll be thankful it’s food,” Katherine joked.

  “What are we taking?” Margie asked.

  “Just a few personal items. My suitcase is in the atrium.” They left the house, but first Katherine locked the door.

  It took two of them to heave the heavy suitcase in the back of the truck. “What do you have in there, bowling balls?” Margie teased.

  “I was going to New York and didn’t know what to pack.”

  “Been there and done that,” Margie kidded, getting into the truck.

  Katherine pulled herself in by the ceiling strap and said, “How are my kids?”

  “They’re fine. We fed them what Spitfire eats and they loved it!”

  “You’ll have to tell me what it is, so I can buy it.”

  “It’s the cheapest canned food at the grocery store. The smell will clear a room.”

  The two laughed. Katherine thought Margie was such a cool person. She had to pinch herself when she remembered Cokey cheating on her. Go away, bad thoughts, she said to herself.

  “The kids and I have been working on the house all morning,” Margie said, putting the truck in gear. “We’ve got it swept. Broom and dustpan, that is,” she added. “Don’t worry about the cats scratching the floors, because like I said, I haven’t refinished them yet. They’re clean, but a little rough-looking.”

  “I appreciate this so much. We’ll take good care of it!”

  Margie pulled in front of a red brick bungalow. “Believe it or not, this house was built from a kit. It’s a genuine Sears Craftsman,” Margie announced.

  “I love it!” Katherine observed, jumping out. “When was it built?”

  “1912,” Margie said, joining Katherine on the front porch. “It doesn’t have a garage.”

  “Not a problem, considering the fact I don’t have a car,” Katherine said cynically.

  “Yep, Cokey told me about that. The house has a new boiler, but you won’t have to use it,” Margie explained. “It’s supposed to be in the seventies tomorrow. Appliances are new. Blah, blah, blah. Just come on in and I’ll show ya.”

  Tommy and Shelly opened the door and said, “About time, Mom. We’re like starving, already.”

  “Oops, hang on.” Margie went back to the truck and grabbed a picnic basket. Returning, she said, “Let’s eat lunch, then I’ll give you the tour. This way to the kitchen.”

  Katherine stood in the kitchen door with her mouth open. “This is incredible! I like the modern look. Margie, you do excellent work!”

  “We had to gut it. There wasn’t much left of the original except the fixed corner table with the built-in benches,” Margie explained. “It had layers of paint on it. I refinished it. The walls had at least four layers of wallpaper. I removed that. Cokey restored the light fixture, but other than the table and light, it’s modern, complete with stainless steel sink, appliances, and granite countertops.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “The gal who sells my houses says kitchens sell a house, so I always have a new kitchen, unless the original is in good shape. Hey, kids, where are you?”

  Shelly came in and said to Katherine, “Hi, Cat Lady!” She scooted to the far left side of the table booth.

  Margie scolded. “Her name is Katherine.”

  “Katz,” Katherine said, smiling.

  Tommy strolled in and said, “I’ve got it all figured out which room will be for the cats.” He plopped down across his sister.

  “Which one is that?” Katherine asked, slipping in next to him.

  “The one with the most windows. Cats like sunlight. Just ask Spitfire. He’s always in the sun.”

  Margie set out plates with ham and tuna salad sandwiches. Pouring glasses of iced tea, she said, “Thanks to the generator, the food’s pretty cold.” The kids dove in immediately. They talked about the house, the tornado, and various other topics until it was time to see the rest of house.

  Margie led the way. “The house is little over a thousand square feet. It has three bedrooms in the back. Although there’s a dormer, there isn’t a second story. It has a basement, which folks in Indiana need as you have found out.”

  Katherine stood in the living room and admired the two glass-front bookcases on either side of the brick fireplace. “What’s the room in there?” she asked, pointing.

  “That’s an enclosed sun porch. It has tons of windows.”

  “That’s the room,” Tommy said. He had been quietly following them from room-to-room. “The cats will love it!”

  “I can imagine they would,” Katherine giggled, then said to Margie, “I’m glad the floors aren’t finished. My cats would really damage them, especially when they have a race.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, how do you keep them from scratching the floor at the pink mansion?” Margie asked.

  “Lots of carpet runners! So far it’s worked.”

  “Well that’s your two-dollar tour. Reckon we need to head on out.”

  Katherine asked, “Can I move in tomorrow? I’ve already spoken to Mark. He’s hiring a moving crew.”

  “Call him and cancel. I’ve got the truck. Lincoln Street is open, so why not now? We can at least get your personal stuff over here while it’s light. Besides, we’ve got a few hours before the guys call it quits.”

  “Perfect,” Katherine said, taking her cell phone out. She sent Mark a text message. “Cancel the movers.” Putting the phone back in her pocket, she asked, “Can we go to your house first so I can check on my cats?”

  “That’s fine. I need to make sure the kids get home,” then to Tommy, “Find your sister and tell her to meet us at the truck.”

  Katherine slipped out the front door and sat on the porch swing. She gazed down the tree-lined street at other, similar houses. She thanked her lucky stars the tornado had missed it. Now, she had a place to stay. The cats would have a sunroom, and she’d have a swing!

  * * *

  Returning to the pink mansion, Katherine was surprised at how fast the CSI unit had gotten there and set up shop. They already put up a blue tent and were busy inside. Two men were slowly digging out from the basement foundation. Another group of men were digging near the foundation of the yellow brick American Foursquare house next door. Cokey and Jake stood nearby, talking to Chief London. When they saw Katherine, they flagged her down.

  “It’s not a well,” Jake said to Katherine. “It’s a tunnel.”r />
  “A tunnel?” she asked, puzzled. “Where does it go?”

  “It connects to the yellow brick house,” Cokey answered.

  The chief asked Katherine, “Do you know who owns this house?”

  “No, not really. Never seen anyone in it. Never any lights on,” she answered.

  Mark pulled up in front and briskly walked over. “Any progress?” he asked the chief.

  “Nope, not yet. We’re trying to figure out who owns the house next door?”

  “Oh, that house belongs to the Colfax estate. It’s been empty ever since old Mrs. Clay died.”

  “When was that?”

  “She died last October. As part of the settlement of Orvenia’s estate, we’re putting it up for sale. Why do you ask?” Mark said, just noticing the CSI personnel removing dirt near the foundation of the house next door.

  Cokey said, “The State Police found a tunnel connecting the two houses.”

  Mark looked shocked and asked Cokey, “When you tuck-pointed in the basement, did you notice anything odd about the brick in that area? If it was a tunnel, there had to have been a door at one time.”

  Cokey shook his head defensively. “There wasn’t anything the matter with those bricks, so I just left them alone. And since Orvenia was dead, there wasn’t anybody for me to ask about the newer bricks in the wall,” he said almost sarcastically.

  A CSI tech pushing a wheelbarrow full of brick and broken glass walked by, then dumped the debris in a nearby area. He said to the chief, “We’ve already gone through this, but I’ll be dumping little piles on tarps around the yard until we’re finished.”

  An officer from inside the tent motioned for the chief to join him.

  Katherine said to Cokey and Jake, “Margie and I are moving some of my stuff to the bungalow, so I better go in and get started. If you need me, just give a yell.”

  “One second,” Mark said, walking after her.

  Katherine turned around, looked past Mark, and caught Jake’s eye. He nodded and tipped his ball cap.

  Chief London yelled, “Hey, Mark, we need those keys to the Clay house.”

  “I’ll drive to my office and get them now,” Mark said, and then to Katherine, “Carol’s service is tomorrow at ten. Could you join me?”

  “Yes, of course. Where’s it being held?”

  “A funeral home in the city. Can I pick you up at nine?”

  “Yes, but I’m not sure where I’ll be. I think I’m staying at Jake’s.”

  Mark glared but recovered quickly. “Have Jake bring you to my office. We’ll leave from there.”

  “That works,” she said, walking up the front steps.

  Mark returned to his car, got in and drove off.

  Katherine rushed in and immediately went upstairs to the back of the hall guest room. Taking the shoe box out of the drawer, she began examining the contents. Trusting the instincts of her smart felines, she began sorting the papers. Those documents with fang marks went into one pile, and those without went in another pile. Glancing at the fang-mark pile, Katherine noted the most curious document was the torn bottom half of a court document from the Erie County Clerk’s office. The official seal was stamped 1938. It read: “Petition to Schedule Hearing on October 28, 1938. All interested persons who wish to object to the petition must file their objections on or before the hearing date.” Written in faded red ink was a court file number.

  “What’s this?” Katherine said out loud. “A petition to do what?” Katherine decided to ask Mark if the Erie County Clerk’s office would have records from that time period. As her attorney, with the help of the file number, maybe he could find the other half of the document.

  Putting the papers back into the shoe box, she carried it to her bedroom, where she placed it in a laundry basket. A gut feeling told her that something important was in the box, or else the cats wouldn’t have gotten into it. Until she knew what that was, she was keeping the box in a safe place. Piling personal belongings on top of it, she made her way downstairs to the atrium. Opening a drawer in the marble-top curio cabinet, she took out the small leather bound journal belonging to William Colfax. She placed that in her basket, as well. Either Scout was attracted to a chemical in the binding, or she had let her person know it was an important lead. But, what? Katherine wondered.

  A loud crash from the living room interrupted Katherine’s reverie. She raced into the room to find William Colfax’s portrait on the floor. “Well, Lilac,” she said under her breath. “I guess you got your wish.” Walking over to pick up the portrait, she leaned the painted canvas against the wall. She noticed a yellowed envelope taped to the back. Reaching down, she peeled off the envelope and carefully opened it. It was a handwritten note from the artist. It read: “Dearest Orvenia. So sorry I delivered this after William left. I so much wanted him to see it. Also, I’m returning the photograph you provided me to work from.”

  “Left?” Katherine exclaimed. “Where did he go?” Katherine flinched when she heard the front door opening.

  Margie called, “Hey, Katz!”

  Leaving the living room with the envelope in hand, Katherine met Margie in the atrium. “Hi, Margie,” she said. “I’ve been putting my stuff in laundry baskets.” She inserted the envelope underneath a fluffy towel.

  “Makes it easier to carry,” Margie commented. “Have you looked outside? There’s car after car of people driving by and gawking at the CSI tent. Chief London is fit to be tied, and out on the street directing traffic. I could barely drive the truck through the mess to park in front of the house.”

  Katherine moved to the front door and peered out. An Erie police cruiser with flashing lights pulled in front of Margie’s truck. Officer Glover darted out and took over for the chief, who looked madder than a hatter. “It’s like a circus out there,” she observed, then almost shouted, “Oh, my God. Is that the news channel van?”

  Margie looked out. “Oh, darn, it is. We might have to wait until later to haul your stuff out.”

  “Oh, hell no,” Katherine said indignantly. “I haven’t done anything wrong. If anyone approaches me, I’ll say I don’t know anything, which is the truth.”

  “No worries,” Margie said in a calming tone. “Let’s get started.”

  Katherine directed Margie upstairs and the two began the arduous task of finding personal belongings to move to the bungalow. After twenty minutes, Cokey and Jake came up.

  Cokey said to Katherine, “Hey, did you know the city news van is outside? There’s a reporter standing on your front porch with some guy holding a TV camera.”

  “Bloody hell,” Katherine said, using Colleen’s favorite curse words.

  Margie asked, worried, “How are we going to get Katz’s stuff over to the bungalow?”

  Jake answered, “Get the truck and move it to the back.”

  “Where am I going to park? It’s a disaster back there!” Margie asked.

  “The dump truck just left,” Cokey said. “Pull down the alley and we’ll direct you.”

  “Yep, I’ll do that,” Margie said, hurrying down the stairs.

  “Might as well make ourselves useful,” Jake said. “What can we carry down?”

  Katherine smiled. “We’re putting stuff in laundry baskets.”

  “What about furniture? You’ll need a bed,” Jake observed.

  “Actually, the only furniture I want moved is those two yellow wingback chairs in the living room. I can move the TV later.”

  “What are you gonna sleep on?” Cokey asked.

  “I’m ordering a bed online.”

  “But, why buy a new bed when you’ve got all these beds here?” Cokey persisted.

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I hate the mattresses in this house! My back hasn’t been the same since I left New York!”

  Cokey and Jake chuckled and carried the baskets to the back part of the house. Downstairs, Katherine heard a commotion outside and ran to the front door. Peeking out the side light, she saw Margie in an altercati
on with one of the reporters. They were talking so loud, she could hear the two of them.

  The reporter shouted, “How does it feel to live in what everyone in town is calling the murder house?” She shoved a microphone in Margie’s face.

  Margie yanked the microphone out of the reporter’s hand and said, “How do you feel about getting a colonoscopy? Now get away from my truck,” she yelled, throwing the microphone back at the reporter.

  Katherine stifled a laugh.

  Chapter Seven

  Katherine woke up with a nagging backache. Iris was asleep on her chest, with her feet tucked under her. Lilac had tunneled under the blanket and was nestled on Katherine’s right side. Scout was snoring slightly and snaked over her neck. For a moment she was disoriented, then realized she was sleeping on a heavy quilt on the floor at the bungalow. Scout shifted her weight and cried a loud “waugh.”

  “You’re choking me,” Katherine complained to the Siamese.

  Katherine tried to sit up, but waited for the other two cats to wake up.

  “Yowl!” Iris protested. “Me-yowl,” Lilac said yawning.

  “Good morning, my darling girls,” Katherine said.

  After the power came on last night, she had decided not to stay at Jake’s. Amidst the protests from the Cokenberger family, she declined because she felt the cats were too stressed to be moved to yet another house, then be moved to a third. It was just too much for them. So Cokey and Jake helped carry the Siamese to the bungalow. They invited her to dinner at the Erie Hotel, but she explained that she was exhausted, and just wanted to crash at the new place. They understood, but Jake showed up later with a carry-out bag. “I figured since you don’t have a car, you wouldn’t be able to forage for food,” he said sweetly as he handed her the bag through the opened door, then left. Scout, Iris, and Lilac joined her in the best prime rib dinner. She had laughed, remembering how the last time she had prime rib, she had to wear a bib. Eons ago, she thought.

  Getting up, she turned the overhead light on and gazed around the empty room.

  Scout complained, “Waugh.” Lying on her side, she put a paw over her eyes to block the light.

  “As soon as I fire up the computer, I’m ordering a bed,” Katherine announced to the sleepy cats. Arranging the blanket Margie had loaned her, she formed a cozy circle and put the Siamese in it. She rolled her eyes at the empty cat beds she had lugged from the pink mansion.