“That leads to the question: who are you, Mr. Cartwright?” I asked, turning my gaze to Thomas. “Am I correct in assuming you are a Cartwright?”
“Yes,” Thomas replied. “I’m Thomas Cartwright.”
“The Thomas Cartwright?”
“Yes. The Thomas Cartwright.”
“The Thomas Cartwright whose name I found scrawled at the end of the diary,” I said, producing the diary and placing it in a clear spot I’d left amongst the candles. I tried not to sound skeptical.
“Yes,” Thomas said. “The Thomas Cartwright who penned that diary.”
We all paused to consider the weight of that statement. He was wedded to this story and wasn’t going to be shaken.
“I don’t suppose that you believe in ghosts, Ms. Boston.”
“I don’t suppose that I do, Mr. Cartwright.”
“I suppose that makes me a mad man then.”
I said nothing.
“And I suppose that’s why it was so important to you that your husband and sidekick be here at your side.”
Again, I said nothing.
“If I’m not a ghost bound by a haunting, Ms. Boston, then what do you suppose I’m after here?”
“I’ve brought for you this evening to give you what you’re after,” I said, removing the necklace from my pocket and laying it on the table. “Now, why don’t you take it and leave Ms. Cartwright in peace.”
“Catherine, my necklace!” Thomas exclaimed.
“Thomas, your necklace!” Catherine echoed.
Well now, it sounded like they agreed on one thing. Having said all I had to say, I sat back and prepared for whatever may come. That included checking my pocket for pepper spray.
I admit that I wasn’t expecting what happened next.
A sudden gust of wind caused the candles to sputter out. The table and surrounding people were plunged into darkness. I heard shuffling followed by a horrible pounding at the parlor door. I jumped up and reached to pull a drape aside. At the same time the parlor doors broke open and the room was flooded with light.
Smoke rose from the recently snuffed candles. Alex and Nurse Hailey stood in the splintered doorway stunned and looking in. Miss Cartwright had a broad smile on her face. And of course, Thomas Cartwright and the necklace were gone.
“I don’t imagine you passed a tall, balding gentleman in a smoking jacket on your way in,” I asked Alex, running to be in his arms.
“Kate, are you alright?” Nurse Hailey called, running to her side.
“Just fine, Rachel. Now, settle down,” Miss Cartwright replied.
“Where is Thomas Cartwright, Miss Cartwright?” Alex demanded.
“Who?” Nurse Hailey asked.
“Thomas Cartwright. The man posing as Miss Cartwright’s brother.”
“Oh, you mean her ghost friend,” Nurse Hailey replied. “I never did believe in him, having never seen hide nor hair of him. But my dear Catherine sure did take a shine to him.”
“You mean that you’ve never seen a distinguished looking gentleman in his seventies anywhere on the premises?” I asked, leaning my cheek against Alex’s chest.
“Oh, maybe a shadow here or there, or something I thought I saw out of the corner of my eye. But never as to meet the man. When did you meet him?”
“Actually, I’ve never met him,” Alex had to admit. “Chloe?”
“Miss Cartwright, you can describe him just as well as I can,” I urged.
“Who would that be?” she replied, suddenly looking senile.
“Your brother, Thomas.”
“But, as you already pointed out this evening, Ms. Boston, I don’t have a brother.”
“You know, Miss Cartwright, I have every reason to file a police report based on this case.”
“But you won’t.”
With that, Nurse Hailey began to wheel the exhausted looking old woman from the room.
“Thank you, Chloe Boston. Thank you for setting my Thomas free.”
“You’re welcome, Catherine Cartwright.”
What more was there to say? Oh, yeah.
“Alex,” I said, pulling back and looking him in the eyes. “I quit.”
* * *
I did file a police report citing the fact that during an unrelated investigation I had stumbled upon evidence of the body of a Cartwright family member lost for almost one hundred years at the bottom of an abandoned well on the family property. The family was left to hire professionals to reclaim the body and deliver it to the coroner who promised, in light of Miss Cartwright’s condition, to examine it soon with plans for burial.
In the meantime, I continued to dig for information as I wrote up my final report.
In my version of the episode, the individual pretending to be Thomas Cartwright-- the boy in the closet-- had found a copy of the original Thomas Cartwright’s diary amongst the family archives and discovered the existence of the necklace. Having no success in finding it himself, he played the ghost to an ailing old lady and eventually conned her into hiring professional help to find the necklace. Once found, he devised elaborate methods to disappear with his prize. End of story.
Either that, or he was the ghost of Thomas Cartwright.
I chose to have Alex run a fraud scan using the description of the Thomas Cartwright I’d met. As I suspected, we were flooded with the profiles matching criminals. After reading a few dozen of them, I gave up, realizing that I would never find my man using this approach.
I considered interviewing Catherine Cartwright again but decided that further effort was useless. Whether a freed ghost or an appeased criminal, Thomas Cartwright was gone and Catherine Cartwright could die with her mind at ease.
The day after retrieving the body, Miss Cartwright called to say that the remains would be interred the following day in a family plot at the most prestigious cemetery in the Northwest. I planned to attend the graveside service with Alex.
* * *
“Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust,” the nasal sounding minister droned on as the ceremony itself droned on. For a guy who’d never met Thomas Cartwright, he sure had a lot to say about him. Was he being paid by the hour?
The weather was bleak; it was cold and raining. Alex and I huddled under a single black umbrella enduring the whole dreary experience. Thomas Cartwright’s plot was situated right beside an empty plot, sharing a common headstone with one Catherine Annabelle Cartwright. Said Catherine Cartwright stood opposite the hole in the ground waiting for the wooden box containing the remains to be lowered into the ground. Oddly, the year of her death had already been carved into the headstone. I found it macabre.
After the service, I stood in line to condole with Miss Cartwright, crying against Alex’s shoulder. He tried to console me, but I always cry a weddings and funerals, except at Althea’s wedding. Or funeral. It was a short line, which was good since it was really beginning to rain hard.
“I read your final report, Ms. Boston,” Miss Cartwright said as I took her hand.
“And?” I asked.
“I found it to be both amusing and frustrating.”
“In what ways did it amuse you?”
“In the same ways in which it frustrates me. Namely, after all that you’ve seen, you still don’t believe that Thomas was the ghost of my long dead ancestor, Thomas Cartwright.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Then, you believe that I was robbed of my ancestral jewels by a huckster magician.”
“Yes, I do.”
At this point in the conversation she sighed and leaned her head to one side.
“You’ll have to forgive me, Ms. Boston. But I become exhausted, especially when dealing with a sensibility such as yours. I choose to believe what I believe, and I’m at peace. Be at peace with this, Chloe Boston. The deed is done.”
“I’m glad you’re at peace,” I said. “After all, that was the whole point. And if you are content then so am I.”
Nurse Hailey rolled her away to attend to the next guest. The nurse
also turned her head to glare at me the entire way. Bygones were not bygones with that one. I asked Alex if he would like to walk with me for a moment, amongst the headstones. He agreed, reluctantly; after all, it was damned wet outside.
“Alex, I’ve been thinking about having a child,” I admitted.
“Yes, I know,” he admitted.
Good start.
“How did I give it away?”
“By telling me you were thinking of having a baby.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot. Life has just been so crazy lately. Anyway, what did you say the first time I mentioned it?”
“I don’t recall, but it was probably something that would allow me to avoid the question altogether.”
“Very wise,” I told him. “And also, very snide.”
“Look, Chloe, I know that you have this biological clock and all, but when it comes to kids, I don’t feel a natural calling.”
We made it to a portion of the cemetery where there was some mud to be avoided. Alex led me through it by the hand, even at the expense of his own shoes. Now, how could a man like that not want to have kids? I thought.
“So, do you mind it if we postpone the kid question for a few years; at least until my business is in a better position and I feel like I can take time off?”
“I suppose not,” I concluded. My own feelings were mixed.
As I wrapped myself around Alex’s arm and let him guide me back to the car, I wondered: what is it that I really want?
Chapter 8
Cousin Althea’s baby shower began early with the arrival of the Elvises. They showed up en masse while I was still setting up, having traveled together from Vegas to get to Hope Falls. Rumor had it that the motel they’d stayed at last night, had asked them to leave and never to return this morning as a result of a wild party that raged late into the wee morning hours. Most of the Elvises looked like they had barely sobered up from the night before. I hoped there wouldn’t be any incidences at the Morningside Inn. I knew the manager.
Rock Elvis was looking good as ever while Heroin Elvis was looking as bad as ever. Gangster Elvis, Elder Elvis, and Living Dead Elvis were also in attendance. I hugged all the Elvises as they entered, but I was particularly glad to see Elvis King who I hadn’t seen since he’d married Alex and me. And nothing could have surprised me more than when Hawaiian Elvis himself walked through my door wearing his own Elvis costume.
“Howdy, Marshal,” I announced. “How’s lawman work been?”
“Can’t complain,” he acknowledged. “Say, I heard you got suspended. What’s that all about?”
“You haven’t heard the half of it-- and that part is all wrong. I’ll tell you later.”
Before long, the duplex was packed with Elvises. Fortunately they required little attention to be entertained. One of them had brought a case of Jack Daniels and they all gathered in Alex’s office to swap stories and share a bottle. They were noisy but I wasn’t going to interfere with their fun. When Alex stepped out of the bedroom and saw them, he joined their drinking party in his office. But the party didn’t really get started until Chief Randy Wallace showed up with a bottle of Tequila to contribute to the cause. With the boys all occupied, I went back to work preparing for the arrival of the women. I knew that Mom and Aunt Dot would be no shows as they had been to the last shower and swore they’d rather have a root canal than come to this one.
And what a party it was going to be. Rosemary had outdone herself with the shower preparations. She had used diapers to wrap individual gifts of candies and such for each of the guests. Crape paper hung from every available ceiling fixture turning my home into a pink and blue party spot. Rosemary had even gone so far as to make a paper mache stork as a center piece for the food table. And the food that she had prepared was marvelous. I loved the little salmon and cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off. There were deviled eggs, relish trays, mini-quiches, sausages, and a beautiful vegetable display. Everything was lovely, and I’d had nothing to do with it.
I looked to Rosemary and smiled my thankful smile. She smiled back her I know smile. Then we high-fived and moved to our positions to receive our guests.
When Mr. Jackman arrived, he gravitated naturally to the men’s corner of the house. Nothing could rightly describe Mrs. Smith’s reaction when she saw the Elvises spilling out of Alex’s office. No sooner was she in the door than she was amongst the dense throng of men in Alex’s office. Mrs. Graves, who had driven Mrs. Smith to the party, stood in shocked dismay glaring into the office, and something told me that one Lawrence Jackman was catching the majority of the glare.
Due to its size and ruckus nature, we had to move the party from the office to the living room. This also reduced foot traffic as it moved the men closer to the food which they were devouring at a horrifying rate. Unfortunately, it also got the Elvises closer to our stereo which Alex had already prepared with Elvis’ Greatest Hits in the CD player. It did free up the office as a place for Mrs. Graves to sit alone and brood. Part of me understood but part of me wanted to shake her.
My dad showed up with Jeffrey and a case of beer. They found places to wedge themselves into the living room after storing their beer in my fridge. And that completed the male guest list. Son of a gun, they’d all showed up. And I was planning for maybe one or two.
“Chloe, who are all these strange men?” Rosemary whispered in my ear while smiling and waving to Bad Boy Elvis who was giving her the sneer.
“Don’t worry, they’re all close friends. Besides, you know the Chief and my dad. Why don’t you go introduce yourself?”
“I think I’ll join Mrs. Graves in the office, dear. This really isn’t my kind of thing.”
Althea showed up last, escorted by Dale Gordon. They were shocked by what they found in the living room. Althea was horrified. Gordon was pleasantly surprised and immediately joined in with the action, accepting a bottle of JD from an already inebriated Mrs. Smith.
“Chloe, is this my baby shower? Am I in the right place?” Althea gasped.
“This is it. Welcome to the party.”
I assisted Althea across the living room— to choruses of congratulations— into Alex’s office, and onto a sofa beside Mrs. Graves, who was glowering and my mother-in-law who was watching the men in the living room with a mixture of loathing and fascination.
“Can I get you ladies anything?” I asked. “Maybe some punch?”
“Hey, Chloe,” I heard Alex call from the living room. “We need someone to drive so we can make a beer run.”
“Excuse me for just one moment,” I said.
When I got to the living room I grabbed Alex by an ear and lifted him off the floor, where he’d been sitting cross legged talking with Living Dead Elvis. I led him to the bedroom to bleats of “Ouch, ouch, ouch”.
“Alex, don’t you think that this party has gotten a little out of hand?” I had to yell to be heard over the din.
We both looked back into the mayhem of the living room and watched as Mrs. Smith coached each of the Elvises individually on the signature moves of their chosen era. Meanwhile, Dad, the Chief, Hawaiian Elvis, and Gordon were huddled together on the sofa, no doubt exchanging horror stories from their past police service. Jeffrey was raiding the food table for what few tidbits were left, stuffing his cheeks until they bulged. Mr. Jackman and Mrs. Graves were glaring across my home at one another.
I figured, to hell with it.
“Instead of going out, I’ll call Al’s Liquors and have him deliver a couple cases of beer,” I told Alex. “In the meantime, why don’t you see if you can calm things down in there while I attend to the ladies?”
“Aye aye, sir,” Alex said, saluting.
He smiled because he knew it pissed me off when he pulled the military crap on me. It was something he only did when he was drunk. I considered punching him in the arm, but instead let him stagger away scot-free.
As I passed through the living room, I noticed that Bob Lincoln, Rosemary’s husband and my father-
in-law, had joined the party. That led me to wonder what Rosemary was going to say when she caught him drinking with the boys. There proved to be no fears on that account since Rosemary was trapped in the kitchen trying to keep up with the food demands.
“Chloe, we’re going to have to make a grocery store run if this keeps up,” she said.
“Don’t worry, Rosemary. I’ll call The Market and have them deliver whatever you need.”
The list of what she needed was extensive. By the time I had written it all down I could hear Althea calling vociferously for me from the office. I dashed into the far room expecting to find her having a baby on my new sofa. And before I’d had a chance to have it Scotch Guarded. All she seemed to need was some more attention, though.
“Chloe, are there going to be games at this party?” Althea asked in her demanding way.
“Chloe, may I have a cup of hot tea?” Mrs. Graves asked in her own sweet way.
“I’ll be right with you,” I said, and scrambled back to the kitchen.
“What’s the ETA on that beer, babe?” Alex queried as I hurried past.
“Chloe, where’s your whisker,” Rosemary asked as I entered the kitchen.
It required several minutes and the necessity of emptying several drawers and cabinets before I had found my whisker. That’s when I noticed the Chief and Jeffrey standing in the kitchen doorway.
“Chloe, I wonder if we could have a few words with you,” the Chief asked, real humble like.
“Oh, Chief, does it have to be right now? I’m really busy— I have a million things to do.”
“No, that’s alright. I understand. Maybe later.”
“Yes. Later,” I concurred, lifting the phone handset from its cradle.
Then I froze. Because that’s when I noticed the large crowd of men that had gathered behind the Chief. Some of them were already heading out the door.
“Oh and Chloe,” the Chief continued. “The boys wanted me to let you know that, since this place is dry, we’re going to head on down the road to the corner bar and continue the festivities there.” Then he quickly added, “If you don’t mind. It’ll let you girls have fun without us.”
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