The Super Spies and the Cat Lady Killer

by Lisa Orchard

  “Okay, guys, come on down! You’re the next contestant on the Price is Right.” Sarah said with a nervous giggle. Her voice sounded unnatural to her, high and tinny. She knew she sounded anxious, but she couldn’t help it—she was.

  Jackie snickered as she wiggled through the window. “Tell me what I’ve won, Bob.”

  “A nice long stay at Leavenworth Prison compliments of Officer Klonsky!”

  “And that’s not all!” Jackie announced. “You get to make a fashion statement in that hot new color, penitentiary orange. It’s all the rave these days.”

  The girls burst into laughter. Laughing felt good to Sarah, releasing some of the tension in her body.

  As she dried her eyes, Jackie climbed down the box stairs, coughing and blinking in all the dust Sarah had kicked up. “Look at all this stuff!”

  “And there’s more behind door number two.” Sarah pointed at the basement door at the top of the stairs.

  Lacey was the last to come down. She wheezed in the dust and rubbed her eyes. “Man, look at all this crap. It’s going to take us forever to find any clues.”

  “Let’s go upstairs and look,” Sarah said, walking toward the basement stairs.

  “Yeah, it’s too dusty down here anyway,” Jackie coughed and waved her hands in the air.

  Sarah led the Super Spies up the stairs. In the middle of the staircase, she put her weight down on a step and it creaked in protest. She froze.

  “Boy, we’re wound pretty tight,” Sarah giggled.

  “No doubt,” Jackie agreed.

  The Super Spies continued their climb to the floor above, and paused at the basement door. It had been the only barrier between the cops and the girls the previous day.

  Questions bombarded Sarah’s mind. What are we going to find behind the door? Is the blood still there? Will Lacey freak out again? Taking a deep breath, Sarah pushed the door open and walked into the cluttered kitchen. The disarray amazed her a second time. There were dirty dishes piled in the sink and newspapers and junk mail littered the countertops.

  “How can anyone live like this?” she asked.

  “Gross. This place smells horrible.” Lacey held her nose against the offending odor of dirty litter boxes. Since the house had been sealed shut, the smell was trapped inside. She made a face. “This place is probably crawling with germs and disease.”

  “The smell is so bad.” Sarah pulled her collar up over her nose and mouth.

  “I wonder what happened to all the cats?” Jackie asked.

  “I bet they were taken to the humane society.”

  Jackie sniffed. “I hope so.”

  Sarah nodded. “Me too. Let’s try the living room.”

  The three girls walked through the kitchen into the living room. Sarah stopped just inside the door and surveyed the area. She stared at the wide arc of blood spatter on the wall closest to the front door. It started at the doorframe and then faded into the heavy drapes by the picture window.

  “Lacey, why don’t you go back down stairs and be the lookout,” Sarah urged, twisting to block Lacey’s view.

  “No, I don’t want to be down there by myself. Don’t worry I won’t freak out.”

  Sarah sighed and studied the blood spatter again. Her heart sank when she saw it, a grisly reminder of the violence from the previous morning. She imagined the terror the Cat Lady experienced during the last moments of her life. Shuddering, Sarah spun away.

  “Don’t look at the blood, Lace.”

  “The cat smell isn’t so bad in here,” Lacey observed.

  Sarah nodded. She avoided the blood spatter on the wall and focused on the stacks of newspapers.

  “I wish we couldn’t still smell the blood,” Lacey said.

  Sarah turned and squeezed Lacey’s shoulder. “Don’t look at it and you’ll be all right. Focus on looking for clues.” She pivoted back toward the papers. “See, Jack, this is what I was talking about,” she pointed to the piles of papers all in a row. “If the Cat Lady were fighting for her life, these piles would be all messed up.”

  Jackie pursed her lips. “You’ve got a point.”

  “I think the Cat Lady knew her killer and let him in.”

  “You know, that makes sense,” Lacey said, walking toward the back of the room. “Scott said something about stabbings being personal.”

  Sarah nodded. “I think we’re on the right track.”

  “Hey, guys, look at this.” Lacey had moved over to the far wall, and was looking at several photographs on a shelf.

  “What is it?” Sarah asked.

  “I think the Cat Lady had a son.”

  “For real?”

  “Yeah, look at these pictures.”

  Jackie and Sarah walked over and gazed at the photo she had in her hand. It was a picture of a young woman with her arm around a small boy. Both of them were laughing for the camera. Looking over Lacey’s shoulder, Sarah studied the woman.

  The picture had captured the woman’s zest for life. Her wide smile invited everyone around her to join in with her laughter. Dark hair cascaded around her shoulders, contrasting with her white skin. Wow, she was pretty, Sarah realized with a start. She looked like a normal person.

  “Have you ever heard of her having a family?” Sarah asked Jackie.

  “No. I’ve only heard she was a crazy witch.”

  “She doesn’t look like a witch in this picture, Jackie.”

  “Looks are deceiving.” Jackie stuck her nose up in the air.

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Are you sure no one has ever mentioned a son before?”

  “Nope.”

  “Take the picture apart, and see if there’s any writing on the back,” Sarah suggested.

  “It says,” Lacey started, “’David and me on the fourth.’”

  “I wonder what happened to him,” Sarah frowned.

  Lacey put the picture back up on the shelf.

  “Wipe off your fingerprints,” Sarah instructed.

  Sighing, Lacey used the hem of her T-shirt to wipe the picture off.

  Jackie pulled on one of her curls. “Yeah, is he still alive, or what?”

  Sarah shrugged. “Good question.”

  “Hey, here’s another picture.”

  “It’s the same little boy,” Lacey said.

  Jackie pulled the picture down off the shelf and pulled it out of the frame. “It says, ‘David Fedewa August 1978’.”

  “He must be her son.” Sarah studied the other pictures on the shelf. “Jack, wipe off your prints before you put the picture back.”

  “The police have already searched for prints.”

  “So, they might come back.”

  “We gave them elimination prints,” Jackie reminded her as she put the picture back on the shelf.

  The girls grew quiet as they searched for clues. Sarah kept returning to the pictures of the smiling young woman and compared her to the old woman she had found dead on the floor. They seemed like two different people. It wasn’t just the fact the Cat Lady had grown old. She knew old people, who slowed down in their old age, but the Cat Lady seemed withered, like her life energy had been drained. What could have happened to this woman that had made her change so drastically? Pondering this for a moment, the nagging question surfaced. Why would anyone want to murder her? Rubbing her temples, Sarah hoped an answer would appear soon.

  Lacey glanced at her watch. “Hey guys, I’ve got to meet Scott.”

  “Wow, time sure does fly.” Sarah shook her head in surprise.

  “Yeah, it does,” Lacey said, as she brushed her hair out of her eyes.

  “Okay. Jack, why don’t you and I head down to the library and see if we can find some info on David Fedewa.”

  “The library?” Jackie asked.

  Sarah snickered at her horrified expression.

  She led the girls back down the basement stairs, avoiding the squeaky one. They scrambled out the window, and Sarah returned it to its original position. The bright sun blinded her, and she stood i
n the yard blinking for several seconds.

  “Try and find out everything the police have on the Cat Lady’s murder,” Sarah instructed Lacey.

  “No kidding, what’d ya think I was going to do? Ask him about Barbie dolls?”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Whatever, just be back at the willow tree by five.”

  With a wave, Lacey turned and walked down the street. Jackie and Sarah watched her walk away for a few minutes, and then began their short walk to the library.

  “You know, the Cat Lady looked like a normal person in those pictures,” Jackie said.

  Sarah smirked. “See? I told you she wasn’t a witch.”

  “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

  “Oh, come on, you don’t still believe in witches, do you?”

  “Well, these stories have been around town…ever since I can remember.”

  Sarah chuckled. “That doesn’t make them true.”

  She peered down the street and saw the heat shimmering in the distance. It appeared to turn the street into liquid metal at the horizon. Man, is it ever hot. Sarah wiped the sweat from her brow and noticed the street was deserted. Walking down the sidewalk, she glanced back at the legendary house. A chill ran down her spine. The house seemed to be watching the girls with its lifeless, window eyes. Her heart picked up its pace. Turning back, she focused on her journey.

  Jackie’s voice was a comforting sound. “I don’t know, I mean, she never came out of her house.” Her face had turned red from the heat.

  “That makes her a freak not a witch,” Sarah said, pushing her hair out of her face.

  “Yeah, but what about what happened to Mrs. Farnsworth?”

  “A coincidence, you know?”

  Jackie shrugged. “We’re almost there.”

  The girls turned the corner, stopping in front of the Harrisburg Public Library. It appeared old to Sarah, with its weathered bricks and cracked steps. There were places where some of the bricks had started to crumble. Someone tried to patch these areas with cement. Sarah realized the cement did the job, but didn’t help the building’s appearance. Man, a strong gust of wind could blow this old building over. Staring at the relic, Sarah tingled with excitement. She knew the library held all the secrets of the tiny burg.

  “Here we are,” Sarah cracked a smile.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been to the library during summer vacation,” Jackie laughed.

  “For real? I go all the time.”

  Jackie snorted. “No doubt. You’re such a bookworm.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  The girls opened the library doors and walked into the cool air. It was dark and peaceful compared to the sunny outdoors. Blinking so her eyes adjusted to the dimness, Sarah peered down the rows of bookshelves. They went on forever and almost reached the ceiling. All at once, Sarah became aware of the scent of musty old pages, and she took a deep breath. She loved libraries. Sarah heard the quiet scrape of bindings against wood and spun toward the sound.

  “There’s Mrs. Parker.” Jackie pointed at an elderly woman putting books back on shelves. “She’s been the librarian for ages. I think she’s a permanent fixture.” Her new friend whispered this last statement out of the corner of her mouth. Waving as the librarian turned toward them, Jackie said in a loud whisper, “Hi, Mrs. Parker.”

  “Hello, girls.” She patted her gray bun, and then stepped off her stool.

  “Did you hear about Mrs. Fedewa?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes, I did. It’s a tragedy,” she said shaking her head.

  “We’re investigating her murder,” Jackie jumped in.

  Mrs. Parker chuckled behind her hand. “You don’t say?”

  Sarah saw her blue eyes twinkle with unexpressed laughter, and her hand hid her smile. When her eyes twinkled, she appeared to be an aging sprite in hiding. Her slight build added to this image. The faded librarian smock she wore was her disguise to the world.

  “Yeah, we are. We just can’t figure out why someone would want to hurt her,” Sarah frowned.

  “I can’t give you an answer. We used to be good friends before…” Mrs. Parker stopped and tears filled her eyes. She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and dabbed them.

  “Before what?” Jackie asked.

  “Well, her son was kidnapped.” She paused to think. “Let’s see…it must have been about thirty years ago.”

  “For real?” Sarah’s heart lurched in her chest.

  “Yes, his name was David. It was all over town. The family paid the ransom and everything, but David was never returned.”

  “What a horrible tragedy,” Sarah frowned.

  “Yes, it was. When David wasn’t returned she just pulled away from people.”

  “I wonder why she did that?” Sarah chewed on her lip.

  “I guess it was too hard for her to be around them, too painful.” Mrs. Parker gazed down and Sarah saw sadness fill her eyes.

  “Ah, maybe we should research the kidnapping then.” Sarah made eye contact with Jackie.

  “I’m sure there were articles in the local paper. Follow me girls, and I’ll set you up on the microfiche machines.”

  Mrs. Parker motioned for the girls to follow her. She walked toward the rear of the library. Sarah and Jackie trailed close behind, exchanging excited glances.

  The librarian stopped when she reached an alcove in the back. She had Sarah sit down, and then showed the girls how to operate the machines. The whirring of the machine broke the silence in the media center. It sounded loud and obnoxious to Sarah, an irritating noise like the unwelcome buzz of a mosquito to someone trying to fall asleep.

  “Mrs. Parker, one last question,” Sarah said.

  “Yes?”

  “Why was David Fedewa kidnapped?”

  “The kidnappers never said why, but I believe it was for the money. They demanded a ransom, you know.”

  “Did the Fedewa’s have a lot of money?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes. They owned the lumber mill in town. It had been in their family for generations.”

  “Was David ever found?” Jackie asked.

  “No,” Mrs. Parker said with a catch in her voice.

  “Hmmm.”

  The librarian cleared her throat. “Okay, you’ll want to start with August sixteenth. The year would have been…1978.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Girls, if that’s all, I must get back to my other duties.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Parker,” Sarah said.

  Mrs. Parker nodded and left to finish her other tasks.

  Sarah began reading through the local paper, The Harrisburg Banner, on the date Mrs. Parker recommended. Jackie started researching follow-up articles looking for clues.

  “Hey, Jack, listen to this,” Sarah whispered. “It says here David Fedewa was abducted from the community pool on August fifteenth. His dad went to use the bathroom, and when he came back David was gone.”

  “Was there a commotion or anything like that?”

  “Nope. No sign of a struggle, and there were no strangers at the pool that day. It’s like he vanished into thin air.”

  “Strange,” Jackie frowned. “I wonder if he walked off with someone he knew?”

  “A good question, detective,” Sarah said in a low voice. ”I’m going to print this off so we can study it later.” She pressed the print key. “Did you find any follow-up articles?”

  “No. They just say the police are stumped, and they’re asking the public to come forward with any information.”

  “It might be a good idea to talk with the detective that worked on the case. His name is Detective Swift.”

  “What a great idea, I wonder if he’s still on the force?”

  “We can always call down to the station and ask for him,” Sarah said.

  “Yep.”

  Sarah glanced at her watch. “Let’s get going. I’m anxious to find out what Lacey learned.”

  The girls packed up their papers and left the library. The heat h
it Sarah as soon as she walked out the door. It baked her skin, and she felt like she was walking into an oven. It reminded her of the time she went with her father to pick up a pizza. Their favorite pizzeria stood on the corner down the block from their house. People came from miles around to devour Mr. Mancini’s famous pizza pies.

  Mr. Mancini was a happy Italian who allowed the Coles behind the counter that evening. He had just installed a new pizza oven and wanted to show off. With joyous flair, he demonstrated the art of pizza making. Throwing the dough high in the air, and then catching it just before it hit the floor. When the dough was stretched to the right size, the happy Italian piled it high with sauce, cheese, and pepperoni, Sarah’s favorite toppings. Singing at the top of his lungs in Italian, he opened the new oven and slid the pie inside. Sarah remembered the fiery heat as it toasted her face. Every time they ordered a pizza, she insisted on going back to Mr. Mancini’s pizzeria. She loved the laid back atmosphere and the sheer joy the pizza man experienced when he made a pie. Smiling at the memory, she hoped to find her passion in life, just like the pizza man.

  “We’ve got to start riding our bikes,” Jackie said, pulling Sarah from her thoughts.

  “No kidding.”

  “We’re almost there.”

  Up ahead, Sarah spied the willow tree. Its green leaves appeared cool and refreshing. The flimsy branches floated in the breeze, suspended in the air like a bright windsock on the lakeshore. Sarah picked up her pace, anxious to escape the sun. Jackie matched her stride for stride.

  “Hey, guys,” Lacey greeted them when they walked beneath the pliable limbs.

  “Hey,” Sarah said, and Jackie waved.

  “Guys, this is Scott Johnson.” Lacey introduced the slim boy next to her. His deep tan contrasted with his blue eyes and blond hair.

  “Hi,” Sarah and Jackie said in unison, exchanging perplexed looks.

  Lacey got right to the point. “He was wondering if he could be in our club, too.”

  Sarah dropped her gaze and stared at her shoes. “I don’t know, we don’t have any other boys in our club.”

  Scott gave Sarah a winning smile. “I could be the first one.”

  “We haven’t talked about new members or anything,” Sarah hedged.

  Scott frowned. “That’s all right. Why don’t you guys have a quick meeting, and I’ll take a swim.”