A Ghost at Stallion's Gate (15 page)

Alex chuckled and said, “Given that ghosts are willing to speak out loud to her, it’s a waste of effort for her to use a recording device.”

I glared at him and he shut up.

“Okay,” Gracie said, noticing the awkward moment Alex had created, “Let’s start with my recorder.” She turned it on.

We listened to the playback, paying close attention to when I had asked questions and there was no reply until I asked if Gertrude Straub was with us. A woman’s voice clearly said “Where is it?” and another woman’s voice answered, “In the lining.”

Then another EVP was heard when I asked if Marla Monette was present. This time, the same voice we heard say, “In the lining,” now said, “It’s time.”

The only other EVP that was recorded was the conversation I had with Rory and it played out exactly as we had heard it. After an hour of listening and discussing the EVPs we had played back on all three recorders, we were none the wiser. All three of the voice recorders had the same EVPs.

“Does the conversation with Rory have any connection with the two women?” I asked.

Francisco spoke up. “It does not appear to be connected, but how are we to know?”

“Yeah, I agree and Rory’s statements are illogical. What did he mean in saying three carrots, four of them and high water, run?” Gracie asked.

“I think his reference to high water is the name of another horse, maybe a horse he was in a race with,” Alex said. “So we could research it to see if that was the name of a horse in that time period,” suggested Alex.

“Except, if the race took place in Mexico, we may never know,” commented Francisco. “Mexico’s records have not been archived to the degree that racing history is in the states and elsewhere. Also, keep in mind this was the decade of Prohibition and racing was not legalized in California. In all likelihood, there are no records for that time period.”

“Maybe, we should let Rory’s statement go, for now,” I suggested with the intent of possibly asking Rory in a private session with him, in the privacy of my cottage. “I’m far more curious about the two women who seem to have a rapport with each other and while we cannot authenticate their identities, if we initially assume that one is Marla and the other is Gertrude then we can try to analyze their statements.”

“But what if those EVPs are not intelligent replies to your questions? What if they are merely residual?” Gracie said.

“Residual?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Gracie answered. “A residual haunting or residual paranormal event is when a scene from the past is played out over and again, like a broken record. And the ghosts are not aware they are being heard or observed. Residual events seem to happen during times of heightened emotions, such as battles, in the final minutes of a disaster, such as a ship going down, that kind of thing. Anyway, what if we just happened to be in the right place at the right time to witness this exchange between these two women. It’s as if they got caught in time. And tonight we got to peek in on a crucial moment in their lives.”

“Okay,” I said.  “I understand that what we may have witnessed is an exchange between these two women and that they are caught in an infinite time loop and they are unaware about who we are. But still, we cannot dismiss the fact that the women appear to have a rapport with each other, as if they have planned to do something and the time was at hand for them to do it,” I said.

Gracie perked up. “Why yes, Shannon you are right. By whatever means we have come across this exchange we should investigate it. So, what could they have meant by saying it’s in the lining and it’s time?”

Alex spoke up and said, “I think they have hidden an object or objects in a lining and they need to leave at that moment in order to get away unsuspected.”

“And if these two women are Gertrude and Marla then we know they are most likely related,” I offered.

“And probably in cahoots,” Francisco added and then said, “It would not be the first time that two relatives devised a scam to sue one or the other and then scheme to share the prize. What if Marla agreed to sue Gertrude’s company, knowing she would win, and from the onset, Marla’s plan was to share the financial settlement with Gertrude?”

“But why?” Alex asked.

“To allow Gertrude the financial power to divorce Lincoln Straub and then start her life anew,” answered Francisco.

“Whew, they were devious, weren’t they?” Alex said.

Gracie and I looked at each other and in unison we said, “No, they were not.”

And then Gracie added, “I think they were women in love and one of them was in a loveless marriage and the other needed to be somewhere else.”

I looked at Gracie and hid my reaction to her summary, because it was not at all what I suspected. I wondered how she came, so decisively, to this conclusion regarding Gertrude and Marla. Was she a gullible romantic at heart?

“Where else did the woman need to be?” Alex asked.

“Baton Rouge, Louisiana,” I answered. “But I’m not one hundred percent certain about that location. Look, for now we each need to do some research. I’ll follow up on the Baton Rouge lead. Alex, I’d like for you to talk with your magician colleagues and research what object or objects could have been so important in the 1920s that it needed to be hidden in a lining, and what kind of lining. Francisco, would you be able to hunt down Gertrude Straub and Lincoln Straub, see what you can dig up about them and their life in Los Angeles?”

“Certainly,” Francisco answered.

“And,” Gracie interjected, “I’ll follow up with Ruben in regard to the videos. Maybe we can all meet in two days, here?”

We agreed and then said goodbye. Alex drove me home. Our ride was thoughtfully quite because we each had a great deal to consider. He saw me to my door, and said he’d call in the morning. The hour was late, nearly one in the morning when I fell into bed.

Chapter 27

The ring of my cell phone woke me up. “Alex, give me thirty minutes and I’ll be ready, bring breakfast please,” I said.

Uh, Miss Delaney, this is Darren Kelsey, I do apologize if I woke you.”

Darren? I thought, as I tried to get cobwebs out of my brain. Then it dawned on me; Eric must have visited him last night. “Darren, it’s really no problem. I was expecting Alex Blackthorne to call. How may I help you?”

“If possible, may we meet today? I have a little more information to share with you,” he answered.

“Yes, definitely. When would you like to meet?” I asked.

“Uhm, well you seem to not have had breakfast, I could be at your cottage shortly, with a breakfast tray, say in about thirty minutes?”

“Wonderful, I’ll be ready with coffee brewed. Thank you Darren.”

“Uh, my pleasure, see you in a little while,” Darren said and hung up.

I hopped out of bed, took a fast shower and quickly dressed. I had coffee ready when Darren knocked on my cottage door. He held a large tray of breakfast goodies.

“Shall we go into the kitchen?” he suggested. I followed him. Darren set out a delicious array of bagels, cream
cheese and jams. I got out plates, flatware and napkins.

“Yum, this is my favorite kind of breakfast.” I sat down and helped myself. Darren was already seated with a full cup of coffee in front of him. He then served coffee to me. I noticed he looked pale with dark circles around his eyes and he was not eating. “Not hungry?” I asked.

“Uh, no, not right now.”

Well, if you do not mind, I can satisfy my hunger and curiosity at the same time.” I smiled, hoping to put him at ease. “I listen much more attentively on a full stomach.”

Darren was hesitant. It seemed to me that he was not sure about how to start the conversation. My guess is that after a few hints from the ghostly Eric Blackthorne, Darren’s nerves were rattled. I let him take his time.

He took a few more sips of coffee and then cleared his throat is a hushed manner. “It occurred to me to do a little more research based on, well, uh, information I did not share with you the other day. You see, what I did not tell you is that I have a connection to Lincoln Straub, the husband of Gertrude Straub, otherwise known as Empress Tatiana. To make a long story sort, my mother is a Straub, I’m a fifth generation grandchild of Lincoln Straub.” Darren looked defeated and that was not my objective.

“Wouldn’t that mean you are related to Gertrude as well?” I asked.

“One would think so, but a bloodline connection to Gertrude was never documented. My mother’s family launched a huge genealogy quest many years ago, way before she or I was born. They hired a professional genealogist. Some evidence pointed to the fact that Gertrude Straub went to Baton Rouge, Louisiana after she divorced Lincoln. That in itself was not much news, we always suspected Gertrude Straub was related to Marla D
evereux and it appeared that Marla had gone to Louisiana. Though we never were able to locate Gertrude in Louisiana. Each of them had the maiden name of Monette. Early this morning I had telephone conversations with distant relatives and at least three of my elderly relatives, two aunts and one uncle, recall that it was proven that Gertrude and Marla were first cousins but because they had gown up together, they acted more like sisters.”

“I kind of suspected that myself,” I added, hoping Darren would feel more comfortable. “So, did Lincoln marry more than once, and that is how the Straub lineage is through your mother?”

“No, he married only once. Yet, evidently, at least according to divorce papers, there was a young boy, about the age of five years at the time of divorce. Instead of Gertrude getting custody, she signed off on custody and Lincoln raised the boy. The perplexing part is not knowing why she would do that.”

“Maybe Gertrude was coerced into it?” I suggested.

“We, meaning my family, considered that angle,” Darren replied. “However, according to the very few letters that Lincoln wrote to family, he was truly heartbroken by the divorce. He was not bitter or angry. Sad, forlorn and somewhat of a broken spirit, he put all his energy into his profession and into raising the boy.”

“What’s the boy’s name?” I asked.

“Gregory Straub. He was named for the first Straub who came to America from Germany in 1870,” said Darren.

“And so, Gregory never knew a mother, or ever would have known that Gertrude may have been his mother?”

“It appears that way. Gregory was so very young, he may not ever had a relationship with Gertrude after the divorce,” Darren explained.

I set down my fork and sipped coffee. Then, putting my coffee aside, I looked at Darren and said, “In the Celtic culture we have a saying about blood memory. In that, what the physical properties of a person’s being cannot know, the spirit, that is in the blood, remembers. Darren, take what I am about to ask you into consideration for a moment and then answer my question: Do you believe that Gertrude Straub, maiden name of Monette, is Gregory’s bloodline mother?”

I picked up my coffee and sipped it and then set it down. I looked at Darren. He had not diverted his attention away from me. His eyes glistened with tears welling up in them.

“Yes. I do,” Darren answered. “And I believe she must have had an excellent reason for divorcing Lincoln and leaving her little boy behind.”

I picked up the platter of bagels and offered him one with the order of: “Eat, we have a lot of research to do to get to the truth. And, by the way, I am in total agreement with you.”

We focused on breakfast for the next twenty minutes then Darren said,” I should warn you, Alex will not call, he’s waiting for you to call him.”

“Why would he do that? Last night he said he’d call me?”

“I took the liberty of letting him know I was providing breakfast for you.”

I giggled and then said, “I bet he’s very curious about our breakfast. What else did you say to him?”

Darren smiled and answered, “I hinted at the fact that I had information that could be related to Stallion’s Gate and wanted to run it by you. Alex understood perfectly, in truth, he promoted the idea. His enthusiasm is odd as far as I’m concerned. Shannon, if I were dating you and tables were turned, I would have grilled Alex before giving my blessing to this breakfast.”

“We are not actually dating,” I said. And then to change the topic I suggested a plan of action. For the next twenty minutes Darren and I brainstormed ideas and research techniques.

Then Darren cleared off the breakfast dishes and picked up the service tray. I saw him out the cottage door. I promised to keep him up to par with information I discovered. I had just closed the door when my phone rang. It was Alex.

“Hi, I thought you were going to wait for my call,” I said.

“I’ve got news you won’t believe. I’m on my way over,” Alex said.

He hung up before I could agree, or object.

Chapter 28

I heard the knock on my door and hollered to Alex, “It’s open, I’m in the kitchen.”

I turned to him as he entered the kitchen. “I wanted to wash the breakfast dishes. You made record time. Coffee or juice?” I asked.

“Orange juice.” Alex sat down at the table. I set a tall glass of juice in front of him. He moved the juice to the side and put a hefty file folder on the table.

I sat down, tapped my right hand on the folder and commented, “You got all this information just since last night?”