Cabin FURvor (A Klepto Cat Mystery Book 16)

by Patricia Fry

  “That doesn’t make sense, Imogene. What animal, other than a bear, walks upright? And it wasn’t no bear.”

  “No, but it wasn’t a normal-looking person, either,” she said, her voice shrill.

  “Excuse me,” Savannah said as the couple approached them on the dock, “I couldn’t help but overhear. You said you saw some sort of creature…was that last night on the road leading up the mountain?”

  Imogene’s eyes widened. “No. I saw it out the window of our cabin.” Her tone accelerated. “I was terrified.” She glanced at her companion. “It scared him, too, didn’t it, Brian?”

  He sighed deeply. “Well, we saw it through the trees. It could have actually been an elk or a deer.”

  “Brian, I saw it close up and it was human, I tell you, or…part human.”

  “Oh Imogene, don’t be so dramatic.”

  She leaned toward the women as if in confidence. “I’m pretty sure it came from the Sledge cabin. You ladies have heard about what goes on there, haven’t you? Brian’s been coming up here for years and he told me about the sightings.”

  “I also told you that I never seen anything, Imogene.”

  “Yeah, but you know people who have,” she reminded him. She turned to the women. “I don’t know where you’re staying, but beware; there’s something strange—maybe even evil—going on in the Sledge cabin.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” Iris said, watching the couple rush off in the direction of the store.

  “Holy cow,” Margaret said. “What are we in for? Iris, you didn’t tell us…”

  “I swear I’ve never heard any of this stuff before.”

  “Craig didn’t say anything to you?” Savannah asked.

  “No. Nothing. Wait ‘til I get my hands on him.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t know about it,” Colbi offered.

  “Fat chance,” Iris said. “Everyone else seems to.” After pausing, she added, “Although, when he comes up here, he rarely motors across the lake. He likes to fish and hang out at the cabin. So maybe he never heard the stories.”

  “Or the rumors,” Savannah said, stepping into the boat. “Who’s driving us home?” she asked. When no one spoke up, she said, “Okay, I guess it’s me.” She gestured. “All aboard.”

  The women were halfway across the lake when Colbi said, “You know, it’s just downright creepy now that we know other people have seen that thing running around up here.”

  Margaret cringed. “What’s creepier is the story about the hammer killer kid and the fact that he probably stayed in that room where Vannie and I slept—the one with the bars on the windows and the locks on the outside of the door.”

  In an attempt to calm any rising fears, Iris said, “Oh now, you guys, I’ve never seen anything when I’ve been up here.” She suddenly frowned.

  “What, Iris?” Colbi asked.

  “Yeah, what?” Savannah prompted a little more loudly, in order to be heard over the outboard motor.

  “Well, I wrote it off as my imagination.”

  When Iris sat silent for a moment, Colbi asked, “What, Iris?”

  “Yeah, tell us,” Margaret urged.

  “It was just too weird. I never told anyone because I was sure they wouldn’t believe me.”

  As the others waited, Iris took a deep breath. “I saw one of the stooges.” When her confession was met with blank stares, she said, “You know, the Three Stooges—it was Moe—the one with the bowl haircut. He peered in the window at me, then disappeared into thin air.” When she saw the look on her friends’ faces, she said, “See, I knew no one would believe me.” She raised her hands in the air. “No one would believe a story like that.” Leaning toward Margaret and Colbi, she said, “But he was as real to me that night as you are to me right now.”

  “Here we are,” Savannah said, stepping out of the boat and holding it for the others to disembark. Just then, she sensed that someone had joined them on the dock.

  “Hello.”

  Savannah turned toward the voice and saw a robust figure of a female who looked more man than woman. “Hi.” She looked around. “Where’s Skip?”

  The woman took the rope from her and tied the skiff to the dock. “I help Skip fill the tanks. The name’s Phyll, for Phyllis. I put the motors to bed at night and bring ‘em out at daylight. There’s no charge—we’re paid by the parks department—but tips are welcome,” she said with a toothless grin.

  “Sure. It’s a nice service you two provide.” Savannah pulled a few bills out of her pocket and handed them to the woman. “So what time do you put the motors to bed?”

  “Oh, before dark,” she said, her eyes wide. “I never want to get caught out here after dark again, so don’t ask me to. If you want to use the boats after dark, be my guest, but you’ll have to row, ‘cause the motors’ll be locked up.”

  “So you don’t go on the lake at night?” Margaret asked. “Why is that?”

  “You see, I had a party once who said there’d be a big tip in it for me if I’d wait ‘til they returned from the bar.”

  “There’s a bar around here?” Margaret asked.

  “Well, yeah—Maribelle turns her place into a bar at sundown. That’s when the music starts a-playin’ and the booze comes out.” Her expression became stern. “That night, those people didn’t come back with my motor ‘til after ten—it was summer and it stayed light ‘til around eight, so I had two hours of the dark to deal with and shore ‘nuff, I had a visitation.”

  “A visitation?” Colbi asked.

  “Yup! Came outta the thicket there right at me; scared me half to death.”

  “Who was it,” Margaret asked, grinning in Iris’s direction, “Moe, Larry, or Curly?”

  When the woman stared at Margaret, a puzzled look on her face, Margaret stifled her laughter and apologized. “I’m sorry, Phyll, please go on with your story.”

  “Thank you,” she said. With fear in her eyes, she continued, “It wasn’t something of this world, I tell ya. It was more like a dead man walkin’. It had greenish skin and eyes that glowed. I’ll never in this lifetime forget those eyes. He towered over me with his wings outstretched like a gigantic bat eager to get my blood.” She shivered. “It was the most frightening sight. I thought it would be the death of me—if not by his claws, by my heart attack. People die of fright, you know.”

  “So what did this creature do?” Colbi asked.

  “As quickly as he came out of the dark, it swallowed him up again. I imagine he went back to his home over yonder to the Sledge cabin.” She shook a plump finger at them. “You ladies be sure to sidestep that cabin on your way back to where ever yer stayin’. Hear me? There’s evil in that place. Now be on yer way. Dark takes over here quicker than you can imagine. Go back to yer cabin and stay inside. Have fun, ladies,” she said with a toothless smile.

  Once the women had stepped off the dock and turned the first bend in the path, Margaret grabbed Savannah’s arm and whispered, “I’m not going back there.”

  “Back where?”

  “To the creepy cabin.”

  Savannah chuckled. “So where do you want to go instead?”

  “Anywhere. Let’s go back to the café where there’s people around.”

  “Oh, Auntie,” Savannah said, “come on; it’s just for one more night. We’re going home in the morning.”

  “But Vannie,” she whined.

  “Hey, I don’t want to spend the night in a bar—where would we go when it closes?” “Come on,” Iris called to Margaret and Savannah. “Look, even little Colbi’s keeping up this afternoon.”

  “Yeah, I don’t want to be left behind where I can be grabbed,” she said, skipping to stay in step with Iris.

  “My aunt’s in no hurry to get back to the cabin,” Savannah said.

  Iris stopped and let the others catch up. “Why?”

  “Because of what might be in there, that’s why,” Margaret responded.

  Iris moved toward Mar
garet and wrapped one arm around her. “Now, Maggie, we’ve never had any problems here. I can’t imagine we’d suddenly be in any danger. Come on, let’s go build a fire, and pour ourselves a nice glass of wine, shall we?” Suddenly, she stopped. “Did someone pick up wine?” One glance at the others told the story. “Well, damn.” She stopped and thought for a moment. “I wonder if there’s time to…”

  “Uh-uh,” Margaret said. “I’m not going across that lake again. It’ll be dark before we get back.”

  “Me, neither,” Colbi agreed.

  When everyone looked at Savannah, she tightened her lips defiantly and shook her head. “Not me. It gets dark early here, remember?”

  Now annoyed, Iris looked at her watch. “It’s just after four,” she said. “It won’t be dark for…maybe an hour.”

  Savannah took long strides ahead. “I’m happy on this side of the lake, thank you. Come on, let’s go.”

  Within minutes, the quartet reached the cabin and, once they were inside, Margaret slammed the door shut and locked the deadbolt. “So what else do you have to drink?” she asked, heading for the kitchen. “Does Craig hide liquor?”

  Savannah and Colbi were engaged in a bit of hysterical laughter as Iris slipped out of her coat and followed Margaret. “I don’t know. Let’s look, shall we?”

  Soon, the four of them were opening cupboards and moving old cans, pots, and other containers aside in search of something hard to drink—Colbi and Margaret on their knees peering into the lower cabinets—when Savannah announced, “You have mice.”

  Iris turned and looked at her. “We do? Well, don’t feed the cats anymore—let those two moochers earn their keep.”

  “Here’s half a bottle of whiskey!” Margaret called. “And some vodka. Okay, ladies, get your mason jars ready.”

  “Can you bring me one, Auntie? I’m going to start the fire.” Before Savannah stepped out of the kitchen, however, she noticed Iris walking around in circles and thinking out loud. “So this cabin is notorious, huh? I still can’t believe Craig hasn’t heard the stories and the rumors. Dammit, he should have told me!”

  “And what would that accomplish?” Savannah asked. “Would you ever come up here with him again?”

  “Probably not.” She turned to Savannah. “You know how closely I follow the spirit world. I’m into woo-woo stuff. I believe in spirits. But I have a healthy respect for them, too. I know what those on the dark side are capable of. No, I would not be coming up here with him again. In fact, I’m not sure I can sleep here tonight.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Savannah asked.

  “Maybe,” Iris said. “Just maybe. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

  Savannah started wadding paper and stacking kindling, then stood and asked, “So, Iris, you think the sightings are spirits?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. Could be, I guess.” She reached up and opened another cupboard. “So all we have to drink is hard liquor? Why didn’t we buy some wine when we had the chance?”

  “As you know, we got distracted,” Savannah reminded her. “So do you still want to go back and get some?”

  Iris peered out the kitchen window. “Do you think we could get back here before dark?”

  “We’d be cutting it close.”

  Colbi chimed in. “I wouldn’t try it.”

  After thinking about it, Iris said, “Okay, let’s have a shot of that whiskey to settle our nerves.” She called out to Margaret, “Give me a double.”

  “Is there anything to mix it with?” Savannah asked.

  Colbi began poking through the fridge and cupboards. “Let’s see, white grape juice, sparkling cider, a bottle of cappuccino…”

  “I’ll have my whiskey with water, I guess,” Savannah said while breaking up more kindling and placing it in the fireplace.

  Meow!

  Savannah reached out and petted the tabby. “Well, hi there, Dolly. What have you two been up to today?” she asked, scratching her behind the ear. She looked around the room. “Where’s your sidekick, anyway? Rags!” she called. “Here, kitty, kitty.”

  “I hope the creature from the black lagoon didn’t get him,” Margaret said.

  Savannah scowled. “Don’t say things like that, Auntie.” She stood and headed toward the bedrooms, calling, “Rags!” When she returned, she said, “I can’t find him. Where could he be?”

  “Probably hiding in plain sight,” Colbi suggested. “Dolly, go find Rags. Where’s Rags?”

  The tabby looked at Colbi and sat down, then walked over to their food bowls and looked back at her again.

  Colbi put her hands on her hips. “You guys ate all your food? I thought we left you enough for the rest of the week. What did you do, invite some of the local squirrels and chipmunks in for lunch?” she joked as she filled their bowls.

  Once Savannah had the fire going, she asked, “Colbi, help me find him, would you? I’m getting kind of worried.” She addressed Iris. “Do you know of any place where Rags could hide?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Not really.”

  Suddenly, they heard a loud crash, clatter, and thud.

  “Sounds like you found your cat,” Margaret said smugly. “I wonder what he broke.”

  Savannah grinned at her aunt, then rushed toward the main bedroom where the sound seemed to originate, Colbi close behind her. “Oh no!”

  “What?” Colbi asked.

  “It looks like he did break something. What is that?”

  Colbi quickly surveyed the situation. “I think he just knocked those books down and the shelf caved in.”

  “Caved in?”

  “Yeah, see, that piece is tipped. Hey—looks like a secret hiding place.”

  “It does,” Savannah agreed. She looked more closely. “It must have been hidden by those old books. What do you suppose is in there?”

  “I’m afraid to look.”

  Just then, Rags leaped up onto the dresser next to the shelf and began digging his paw into the gap. Before Savannah could stop him, he pulled something out and it dropped to the floor.

  “Sage,” Colbi said.

  “What?”

  “It’s a piece of dried sage.” She looked at Savannah. “I don’t know about you, but I’m curious.” She lifted the piece of shelving and peered inside. After pulling out a few items and laying them on the bed, she said, “More sage, a package of salt, and candles. There’s something else in there. Looks like a book.”

  “What happened?” Iris asked, joining the pair. Margaret followed.

  Savannah pointed. “Rags found a secret hiding place.”

  When Iris saw the items spread over the drab quilt, she said, “Sage, salt, and candles. Let’s see, how does that go? ‘Salt, sage, and light, I banish the evil from my sight.’”

  “What are you, a witch?” Margaret asked, suspiciously.

  “No,” she said definitively. “I just like reading about spells and spirits and things that go bump in the night.” She picked up the sage. “But I didn’t suspect that Craig knew about such things.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t,” Savannah said. “This stuff’s old. Been in here for a long time; maybe since Craig was a child. Could it be that his parents were using it to banish the evil that kid brought here? Maybe they were aware of it.”

  “Could be,” Iris said. She turned quickly toward the others. “So this means the rumors we heard today could be true. There is something frightening here.” She put her hand to her mouth. “Girls, we might be in for more than we bargained for tonight.”

  “Lordy, lordy,” Margaret said as she walked out of the room. “Bring on the whiskey.”

  Savannah, in the meantime, looked over Colbi’s shoulder at the book she was thumbing through. “It’s a personal diary…or journal.”

  “Whose?” Iris asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Colbi said. “Oh wait, here’s the name: Ellen. And the first entry is dated September 12, 1974.”

  Ir
is moved closer to the two women. “Hey, that’s Craig’s mother. What did she write?”

  “Well, let’s get our drinks…” Savannah started.

  “And light the fire…” Margaret called from the living room.

  “Did it go out?” Savannah asked. “Better bring in more wood and kindling.”

  Margaret shook her head. “I’m not going out there alone.”

  “Would you rather stay in here alone?” Savannah challenged. “Look, we have a little daylight left. Come on, let’s all go gather some wood together, then we’ll come in and have our drinks and see what Ellen had to say that was so private she had to hide it.”

  Chapter 5

  “How many entries are there?” Iris asked, once the women had settled on the two sofas around the fireplace, eager to delve into the journal.

  “Let’s see, only a half-dozen or so.” Colbi handed the book to Iris. “Hey, since this is Craig’s family, why don’t you start?”

  Iris took the small book, looked down at the first entry, and began to read: September 12, 1974. I hate this place. It holds nothing but fear for me, but I don’t let on because Frank and Craig love it so much. And Amos—what can I say about Amos? Does he like it here? It’s hard to tell; he doesn’t show much emotion. I thought it was strange that Frank’s parents built this cabin primarily for Amos—so they’d have a place to bring their grandson after his parents drowned. It was evidently after that awful accident that the boy became so remote and withdrawn. Somehow, Mary and Del discovered that Amos does better in this setting. He responds to the out-of-doors. At least that’s what my mother-in-law told me one day.

  “Wow!” Iris said, making eye contact with Margaret and Colbi who were curled up on the brown sofa. She continued, I didn’t know her very well—we didn’t have a close relationship. Maybe it’s because we saw each other so seldom—us living nearly 400 miles apart. So to have her speak rather spontaneously about Amos was a surprise to me.

  Frank and Del had taken ten-year-old Craig to a ball game. Amos was eighteen at the time and lived primarily in a mental hospital. Mary told me that day that Amos was much like Craig as a youngster—full of life, curious, and happy, but that changed when his parents drowned. It was as if his lights went out. After that, he rarely spoke or smiled. Mary said he was thirteen when he came to live with them. When it was obvious that he had a problem—couldn’t seem to fit in anywhere—they felt it was best to institutionalize him. They chose a place that allowed for home visits and they brought him home several times a year.