Death by Haunting (6 page)

I guess they worked Florida in the winter.

What happened to George Headley’s precious collection?

James Quinn said they couldn’t fence the collection, so they broke the bibelots apart and what they couldn’t break, they melted down and then sold . . . for a fraction of what the artwork was worth. I never said they were smart thieves.

Hmmm. This was very fascinating and interesting but nothing seemed to fit the description of Jean Louis’ collection. The new canvas stitched onto the old canvas was a dead giveaway that something was not right with his collection.

I checked the FBI list of stolen art objects.

Oh dear. That was not going to work. The number of missing or stolen artworks was overwhelming. I was going to need specific information if I saw this through . . . and I was not even sure if his paintings were stolen. Jean Louis could be totally honest and legit.

It was just that my nose was twitching.

And then there was the visitation from his mother-in-law just before Terry’s untimely death.

If you asked if I believed in ghosts, I would tell you no.

If you asked if I had ever seen a ghost, I would say yes.

Why the contradiction?

I don’t really understand how a ghost could exist. When you’re dead, you’re dead.

But I can tell you that I saw Brannon, my late husband, three times after my fall off the cliff. He spoke to me and I could even smell his aftershave.

Terry saw his mother-in-law mother for three nights. In fact, I believe that his mother-in-law came from the great beyond to warn him.

But I don’t believe in ghosts.

Most people in Kentucky don’t believe in ghosts, but almost everyone has seen one.

11

I
had just finished reading Edgar Allan Poe’s
The Purloined Letter
when Baby rose from napping at my feet only to whine while pacing by the back windows.

“What is it, boy?” I asked, going over to the windows.

The treetops were swaying and the air had an odd yellowish glow about it. Uh oh! Not a good sign in Kentucky. A yellowish sky with green tints means tornadoes. Better turn on the radio.

Before I could, there was strong protesting in the form of caterwauling. I opened the patio door and in rushed Mama and the Kitty Kaboodle Gang, which then hurried to Baby for comfort. After Baby nuzzled them in greeting, they turned to me as if to say, “Now what?”

I went into the kitchen pantry where I kept pet carriers for emergencies. I put the protesting felines into the carriers and put a sturdy leash on Baby, wondering how I was going to manage him. He could be difficult when frightened and he was strong as a bull. Baby was just too much dog for me after my accident. I didn’t have the strength to control him, but what could I do?

I loved him.

The doorbell rang.

Great! Who could that be?

Amidst the cat meowing and hissing plus the dog barking and straining against the leash, in other words general commotion, I managed to look at the security monitors.

Thank goodness.

I opened the door. “I thought you hated me.”

“I do, but I adore Baby. I guess it finally dawned on you that a tornado is coming this way, Dorothy Gale.”

“Auntie Em you’re not, but I’m glad you didn’t call me the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“You should have heard me yesterday only I started the word witch with a ‘b’. What’s the game plan?”

“I usually go to the Big House.”

“Why not stay here?”

“Because I don’t have a basement filled with gourmet food, champagne, sleeping accommodations and cable TV.”

“See your point.” Franklin looked behind him at the trees waving wildly around the house. “The wind is really picking up. Shall we go?”

“You take Baby and the cats and go on to the Big House. Just go in the back door. The stairway to the basement is in the butler’s pantry.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Franklin, looking anxiously at the sky.

Thunder sounded in the distance.

Baby began pulling at his leash and I was having difficulty holding onto him.

“I’ve got to open up the pastures. Then I’ll help with June’s horses. Don’t worry. I’ll be safe, but you can really help if you take Baby now.”

Franklin looked dubious.

I handed him Baby’s leash and the cat carriers. Thunder sounded again which caused Baby to panic. It took both Franklin and me to get him into the Smart Car. Franklin threw the cats in the back and, giving me one last baleful look, took off to the Big House.

I got into the golf cart and sped toward the barns and pastures.

My farm is entirely closed in by fences with connecting gates. During tornadoes, I open each of the gates so the animals can run away from storms. Many take refuge in the woods where they feel safe.

My thought is that leaving an animal locked in a barn during a tornado is a possible death sentence.

I checked each barn and made sure no animal was trapped inside. After securing all the barn doors to be sure they stood open, I drove over to June’s stables.

Unlike me, June had money enough to construct a barn built into a hillside with a large dirt ramp connecting to underground stalls. I caught up with Bess directing farm hands.

“Where’s Mike?” I asked, referring to the farm manager.

“He’s trapped at Keeneland. Can’t get here. It’s just me.”

“Where do you need help?” I yelled at the top of my lungs. It was hard to see Bess as the wind was stirring up dust devils, which were dancing around the barn compound.

“The mares with the spring foals are the last,” she hollered back, pointing at a nearby barn.

I nodded and directed my cart to the foaling barn, dodging panicking horses and farmhands. Many of the horses had blankets over their eyes.

Unlike me, Mike didn’t like the horses outside during severe storms, so he brought them into the barns with the most valuable going into the special underground stalls. Of course, June’s newer barns were extremely sturdy and constructed for tornadoes.

I didn’t like June’s policy but it wasn’t my call. She and Mike were doing what they thought was right for the safety of their horses.

Inside the barn were anxious farmhands trying to calm the mares enough to move them. I grabbed the halter of one of the mares and led her out of the stall, knowing that her foal would follow. Thank goodness she was a trusting animal. I got the mare and her baby into the underground barn and a secure stall without incident.

It was very important that the horses not be cut or scratched during their move. I quickly checked the mare, especially her legs, before reporting to Bess.

By that time, Bess had finished counting the horses. All were accounted for and secured. Now all that was needed was luck that the tornado skirted the property.

Most of the farm workers were staying in the underground barn where there was ample food and water for both man and horse. The men and women were already getting out cards to play poker. The spooky weather didn’t faze them, as it occurred every spring. They were used to it.

Bess and I got into the golf cart and did one last sweep around the farm before heading back to the Big House.

As we crested a ridge, we saw a tornado in the distance heading toward us.

“Let’s get out of here!!” cried Bess.

I made a beeline to the Big House and the cart had barely stopped moving before we jumped out, hurrying inside and downstairs.

You would barely know that there was a problem with the weather, given the calm in the shelter.

June and Franklin sat in a corner, both of them trying on June’s massive jewelry collection, which she had brought down with her. Liam was making sandwiches in the basement kitchen while Charles’ grandsons listened to the emergency radio. A TV blared in the corner.

Baby ran up to me and gave little barking sounds, apparently complaining that his cat friends had been placed in a storage room.

“Nice to see you too, Baby,” I commented.

Tyrone spoke up, “If Baby’s concerned about those cats, he shouldn’t be. They have litter, cat food and water. Plus there are toys with catnip.”

“No problem. I know several of you have cat allergies. They’ll be fine.”

“Thanks for not causing a fuss,” replied Tyrone, “like some people.” He rolled his eyes at Jean Louis who was mumbling about the coffee not being hot.

Tornadoes can be very frightening for those who have never been threatened by one. Being a sucker for those in distress, I went over to Jean Louis and asked, “Do you want your coffee heated up?”

“This savage country. Since I’ve been here my allergies have been intolerable, no decent brewed coffee or croissants and now this. My collection. What will become of my collection?”

“I see you brought the paintings with you. They will be safe as you will be. A tornado could rip this house apart but we will be safe down here.”

“Rip the house apart? Mon dieu!”

Tyrone spoke up, “We get earthquakes, too. In fact, the largest earthquake ever in the U.S. was the New Madrid Earthquake of 1811-12. It was so strong the Mississippi flowed backwards and church bells rang in Boston.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” snarled Jean Louis.

“Hush up, boy,” snapped Bess. “No one needs to hear how smart you are.”

Tyrone shrugged and returned to listening to the radio.

“I’d rather face a tornado than an earthquake. A tornado is random. Not everyone is affected, but an earthquake is different. Why, the earth could drop right out from underneath you,” commented Franklin.

“Franklin, I’d take you a little more seriously if you weren’t wearing a tiara and pendant earrings,” I drawled.

“I’m not talking to you. I still hate you,” hissed Franklin, putting on an emerald necklace.

“You don’t hate me nor are you mad at me. You’re furious with Matt and taking it out on me.”

Franklin pulled off the earrings. “We were so good together. What happened?”

“He’s got guilty feet,” interrupted June as she rummaged through her jewelry box. “He was too good-looking and couldn’t resist all the temptation coming his way. He thought Meriah might tether him to the ground.”

“What the hell does that mean?” asked Franklin, yanking a sapphire bracelet off June’s arm and putting it on his.

“It means that Matt didn’t think he was good enough for you.”

“Huh?”

June looked exasperated. “Really, for a smart person, you can be dense, Franklin. It is very simple.

“You are a good person. Matt isn’t. Oh, he is suave, charming, hardworking and beautiful, but he’s not good. Matt is a user. He uses his charm and beauty and sex appeal to get what he wants from people. The only people he hasn’t used are you and Josiah.

“He thought that with Meriah, who has everything that he wants . . . great wealth, material possessions, connections . . . he would stop wanting. Would stop using people as he would have all that he had previously aspired to obtain.”

Franklin looked stunned. “I don’t know what to say to that? I think of Matt as a good person.”

“Which is why Matt left you. He knows what he is and is trying to change. Leave him alone, Franklin. Let him make the journey to redemption as he wishes.”

I patted June’s arm. “I sometimes forget what a smart old broad you are.”

“Age does have its privileges . . . like wisdom and power. You know, Josiah, that with great power comes great responsibility.”

“Voltaire?”

“Uncle Ben in
Spiderman
,” grinned June.

I opened my mouth to retort but didn’t get a chance, as that is when the tornado hit.

12

“W
hat is that?” screeched Jean Louis, looking up at the ceiling.

Bess motioned for all of us to quiet down as she strained to listen.

The thunderous sound of a train roared down upon the Big House.

“Everyone in the corner, now!” ordered Bess as she herded us into the deep recesses of the basement.

I was pulling Baby by his collar until he bucked and wrestled of out it.

Franklin rescued us both by grabbing Baby’s front paws and dragging him into the corner. Then Franklin threw himself on top of Baby.

I flung myself over both Franklin and Baby as the deafening tumult rushed over us.

The house shook as the lights went out, plunging us into darkness.

I was screaming along with Jean Louis.

13

J
ean Louis kept screaming like a stuck pig until June reached over and boxed his ears. He then resorted to whimpering.

Remind me never to count on that man in an emergency.

Several seconds later it was quiet. I don’t think even a minute had passed. It was very serene. It was as if the earth had stopped moving.

We all straightened from our crouched positions and stood listening to the silence until the emergency generator kicked on. The basement flooded with light again.

Bess immediately got on her walkie-talkie and called the farmhands in the underground barn. To our relief they answered and said they and the horses were all right.

“Is it over?” asked Jean Louis.

“For now,” replied Bess.

“Bien,” cried Jean Louis as he rushed up the stairs.

“You can’t go out there, man!” yelled Tyrone, chasing Jean Louis. “There’s a entire cell of storms in the area. More than one tornado. You can’t go up top until they pass through.”

“Go get that fool and bring him back,” ordered Bess to the rest of her sons and nephews. “Tie him up if you have to.”

I pulled June to her feet and straightened the lopsided tiara on her head. “Let me help you into a chair, Lady Elsmere,” I offered.

“You have got to train that dog,” accused Franklin, taking off jewelry. “He’s too strong.”

“I have tried, Franklin. He’s been kicked out the best obedience training schools in the area. Baby is just obstinate. Is this really the time to go off about Baby?”

“Just look at me. There’s drool everywhere. I’m a wet mess.”

Baby licked Franklin’s hand and then belched very loudly in his face.