A Ghost of Brother Johnathan's: Shannon Delaney Series Vol. 5
PRAISE FOR
ELIZABETH EAGAN-COX
A Ghost of Brother Jonathan’s
“E LIZABETH EAGAN-COX puts together yet, another wonderful and fulfilling mystery in her Shannon Delaney series with A Ghost of Brother Jonathan’s. Set in the historical district of Eureka, California, Shannon is tasked with solving riddles and mysteries dating back to the Civil War era. So just sit back and relax, you are in for treat.”
—Scott Wise, Cofounder and Lead Investigator of GASP: Ghost And Spirit Paranormal “S HOCKING! Step into a new chapter of the paranormal as Elizabeth Eagan-Cox lures you in like the Pied Piper. ”
—Jessie Hedge, Cofounder of Ghost Hunters United. “E LIZABETH EAGAN-COX has a knack of handcrafting the lost intuitive/paranormal arts of the past, interweaving them with genuine facts and actual locations, and expertly stitching it all together with “mystery twist” into what could be compared to as a well-made pine needle basket of a story. Her sixth in the Shannon Delaney Paranormal Mystery series, A Ghost of Brother Jonathan’s left me wondering if the author knew something of my personal family genealogy! Let’s just say that Elizabeth’s elements of such “pine needles” as German rouladen, a Civil Warera tavern with separate kitchen quarters and mason jars, incorporated my love of both fact and fiction in one admired work-of-art of her latest creation.”
—Debbie Ballard, Owner of Phenomena and journalist at National Psychic Examiner
A Ghost to Die For
“A NDALYN DIXON; a tarnished name, wrongfullyblamed? Shannon, Alex, and Eric join forces once again, and uncover secrets from the past, full of deception in this mystery, involving one of San Diego’s most famous bank scams.”
— Scott Wise, Cofounder and lead investigator for Ghost And Spirit Paranormal (GASP) and contributing writer, Pennsylvania Paranormal magazine.
A Ghost at Stallion’s Gate
“E XCELLENT. Every time you think it can’t get any better, Elizabeth Eagan-Cox redefines the satisfying story.”
— Arline Chase, author of Ghost Dancer, etc.
A Ghost Meets an Angel
“A PARANORMAL TOUR DE FORCE. Shannon Delaney is back and so is her favorite ghost, Eric Blackthorne, to help her when she must solve a century-old murder.” — Arline Chase, author of Killraven and the Spirit series, Spirit of Earth, etc.
A Ghost from the Shadows
“A MYSTERY with enough twists and turns to keep you interested until the very end.”
— Ludima Burton, author of The Christmas Ball.
A Ghost of a Chance
“C AN’T WAIT FOR THE NEXT! In the tradition of Barbara Michaels, A Ghost of a Chance is a wonderful paranormal mystery; a perfect book for curling up with a cat and a cup of tea on a dark night. ”
— Karyn Dolan, Host of Through the Keyhole, Paranormal Radio Network.
ii
A GHOST
OF BROTHER JONATHAN’S
SHANNON DELANEY
PARANORMAL MYSTERY SERIES, VOL. 6
by Elizabeth Eagan-Cox
Cambridge Books
an imprint of
WriteWords, Inc.
CAMBRIDGE, MD 21613 © 2013 Elizabeth Eagan-Cox All Rights Reserved First Print Edition, January 2014 Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Author or Publisher, excepting brief quotes to be used in reviews.
Cambridge Books is a subsidiary of:
Write Words, Inc.
2934 Old Route 50
Cambridge, MD 21613
ISBN 978-1-61386-255
Fax: 410-221-7510
Bowker Standard Address Number: 254-0304
CHAPTER 1
Concealed in late-afternoon shadow, Edgewild Tavern served as a portal to another time and place. Snuggled in the center of seven acres of evergreen forest, about five miles north of Eureka, California, the crumbling log lodge looked more like a demolition project than a prime target for restoration by the local historical society.
I resigned myself to the fact that I had signed a contract for this job, and who am I to argue with the powers that be at the local historical society? After all, this writing assignment came to me on excellent recommendation from my family’s friend, Rosario Santiago. At the time, the assignment seemed like a good chance to visit a region of California I’d never seen. Now, as I stood in front of this dubious project, I decided to believe that this assignment would be a rousing success, because otherwise, flying from San Diego to San Francisco, renting a car and driving five hours up the coast to Eureka would be a huge waste of my time, effort and finances.
A glance at my watch made me realize that I was chasing sunlight. Sunset was barely an hour away and I did not want to be stuck waiting outside this lodge, on this lonely stretch of road. In dire hope that my contact, Ozzy Stark, would arrive soon, very soon, I reluctantly turned my back on the tavern and stared out at the highway. The setting sun blinded my eyes. I closed them and listened for the sound of an approaching vehicle.
Forest noises dominated the air. A hawk screeched. Whispers of rustling tree branches brought to mind the image of the haunted forest in The Wizard of Oz movie. I shuddered. To this day, that scene still rattled my nerves. A howl in the distance made me wonder, do they still have wolves, here? Rosario, what did I let you talk me into?
“Miss Delaney?” Yikes! I jumped and turned around to face the person who called my name.
“Who are you?” I queried.
The tall, lanky man stepped closer and offered his hand. “I’m Ozzy Stark. You are expecting me, aren’t you?”
I tried to be calm and business like. “Yes, certainly. It’s just that I thought you would drive up the frontage road, and that I’d see you coming.” I glanced around for a vehicle, there wasn’t one. “Where did you come from?”
“Oh, out back. There’s an old forest road and it’s a shortcut for me. My property is just on the other side of these woods, about three miles behind here. I take the forest road in good weather, but once winter sets in with rain, snow and ice, the forest service closes the road. I didn’t mean to startle you. Shall we go in?”
“Yes.”
Ozzy turned to step up on the rickety porch. I figured if the porch would support him, then I need not worry about my petite frame falling through the porch boards. Ozzy was a few inches over six feet tall, maybe two or three. His dark African face featured a wide mouth and large dark eyes that conveyed warmth and sincerity. A halo of cropped white hair crowned his head. To say he was lanky was an understatement. And with his last name being Stark, well… I couldn’t get an image out of my mind that if Ozzy were an animal, he would be a stork. I estimated that Ozzy was close to seventy years old. Not until I stood close to face him did I realize he wore a yellow T-shirt that proclaimed: Official Cat Herder for the Eureka Cat Rescue Society. Below the text was a cartoon illustration of Ozzy, depicted as a pied piper with a trail of wayward cats following him. I chuckled to myself, suspecting that in this case, it was highly unlikely Ozzy would lead cats away to gloom and doom. Ozzy seemed like a gentle giant.
We stepped inside and Ozzy reached over to the left of the door and flipped a switch. Makeshift overhead lights came to life.
Ozzy pointed up to the lights and said, “Those are temporary. The renovation agenda calls for the installation of electrical lantern-style lights. Of course, even that style
of lighting is a compromise. When this tavern was operated in the 1870s, there wasn’t electricity and real oil lamps would have been used.”
“I see. I believe I read about that detail in the documents you sent to me. Though, one thing I’d like clarified, this tavern is being turned into a pizza parlor, within a few weeks?” I tried not to sound doubtful.
Ozzy chuckled. “Don’t worry Miss Delaney, I know how unrealistic, even idealistic, our plans may seem, but yes, that is the plan, sort of. You see, in good weather, which is nine months of the year, that highway out there is the main road for travel up and down the California coastline and it continues north into Oregon and Washington. In beginning the renovation now, in November, we’re pretty sure it will be finished by spring. And then, the tavern will be open for business as a family-styled pizza restaurant, just in time for the spring tourist season.”
I sighed, and then smiled. “Okay, I have to tell you that it was Rosario Santiago who told me about the plans for this project, and somehow I got the impression that the goal was to open the tavern soon, real soon.”
“Ah, I see,” Ozzy answered. “That glitch in timing might be my fault. I may not have made a point of saying that it was the brochure, for which we hired you to write, that we need soon, real soon. Having the brochure in hand will help the historical society garner additional support from the business community. We have a meeting scheduled in two weeks to meet with the town council and the business chamber, we need for you to have the brochure ready for that meeting.”
“No problem,” I answered. “I completely understand your situation. Let’s get started with the tour, okay?”
Ozzy grinned. “Right this way.” He took four long steps out into the middle of the room. I took seven steps to catch-up with him.
“As you can see, the lodge is one large room. The bar at the far end is a replica addition. In researching the history of the tavern, I know that we have placed the replica bar in the exact spot as the original bar. Here, where we stand now, there would have been a few tables with chairs and then in the opposite direction,” Ozzy turned around to face the rear of the lodge, “notice there is a door over there. That door leads into what was the innkeeper’s private residence, it’s a single room of twenty-eight by twelve feet.”
“And this main room, what does it measure?” I asked.
Ozzy replied, “It’s twenty-eight by twenty-eight feet. Originally, the kitchen cabin was out back, about fifteen feet from that closed door, over there.” He pointed to a door directly opposite the front door we entered through. “It was the custom in the 1800s to always have a separate cabin for cooking. In the 1920s, when the property was vacant, a fierce lightning storm hit the area. The kitchen cabin was struck, and it burned to the ground. We plan to use the innkeeper’s private room as the kitchen. I’ll show you.”
I followed Ozzy to the door of the private room. Just as Ozzy approached it, I noticed shadows behind me and turned to look. Over at the open front door, two cats stood on the threshold, one white and one gray. They seemed curious about us, but didn’t make a move toward us. Ozzy paid no attention to them and I could not but wonder if the cats were strays that were accustomed to him, or maybe they belonged to Ozzy.
I stepped into the former innkeeper’s room. Plumbing work had already commenced and I asked Ozzy about it.
“Yeah, we think it’s best to get the plumbing work done before winter, in winter there’s a chance of the ground freezing. The plumbers shouldn’t get in your way. We must have the plumbing work finished before proceeding with other necessities, such as the installation of electricity. Anyway, the main part of this room will now be the kitchen. An interior wall will be constructed down at the far end to accommodate a public restroom. Pretty sure all those details are in the notes I gave you.”
“Yes, I received a detailed plan. In fact, all I really need is to see the place for myself and if you don’t mind, I’d like to snap some photos to have as a reference, just for me.” I held up my palm-size digital camera.
“Be my guest. I’ll wait out on the porch,” Ozzy said.
I made quick work of capturing some shots and was about to step out onto the porch when the two cats encircled my ankles. Their soft purring was comforting. I reached down to pet the white one. The cat readily accepted my palm, pushing its head into my fingers.
“Nice kitty.” Next, I gently stepped away from the cats and hoping they would follow, I cooed, “Here kitty, kitty, kitty,” as I stepped out the door. However, the cats stayed put. Standing on the porch, I turned to Ozzy and asked, “Are those your cats?”
He peeked inside the front door and then turned around to face me. “I don’t see any cats.”
I stepped up and looked inside. “Well, they were there a minute ago. One white cat and one gray cat, both cats have short hair and they had six toes, each, on their front paws. Where could they have gone?”
“Six toes, hmmm.” Ozzy gazed out at the horizon, paused in quiet reflection for a moment, then he looked at me and said, “I suspect they went to the other side.”
Was Ozzy being deliberately obtuse? “The other side, where? This is the only open door and I know they did not slip past me.”
“Oh, the other side of life. According to local folklore, those two six-toed cats are phantoms. Ghost cats. They belonged to Jonathan Rupp, the man who built and operated Edgewild Tavern. The white cat is named Shadow and the gray one is Mouser.” Ozzy smiled. “All my life I’ve wanted to meet them, and imagine that, they chose you right off the start. Well, now, wait until I tell the society about this development. I know the society was keen on getting you up here to write the brochure, but one of the members, Marta Keller, said she hoped you’d take this assignment because it is rumored that you have the gift.”
Marta Keller? Isn’t she Rosario’s friend? I faced Ozzy and said, “I’m very interested in learning about folklore regarding the owner Jonathan Rupp and his phantom cats. Also, I would like to meet Marta Keller, I’m pretty sure she is the person in Eureka who is Rosario Santiago’s friend.”
“Miss Delaney, I can arrange both of your requests. I’ve got word document files about the folklore of this tavern and I will e-mail them to you. I’ll do that this evening. And I’ll set up an appointment with Marta. How about we all meet for lunch tomorrow?”
“That would be good. I’ll keep an eye out for your email. I’m lodging in town at the Hotel Carter, in case you need to contact me.” I began walking to my car, Ozzy followed. When I opened my car door to slide in, I turned to him and said, “I thought those two cats showed up because of your penchant for cats. But, ghost cats? Uh-oh, the plot thickens and I am wondering what Marta and Rosario have gotten me into.”
Ozzy laughed. “Whatever it is, I hope you don’t mind if I tag along for the ride.”
I held out my hand, “It’s a deal, but only if you call me by my first name, Shannon.”
Ozzy shook my hand and smiled. “I look forward to this adventure, Shannon.”
CHAPTER 2
I walked up the flight of stairs to my room, suite 201. I had booked this room on the advice of friends who had stayed here. They said Hotel Carter was ideally located in Eureka’s historic district and had specifically recommended this room, with the caveat that it could be a little noisy, but the view of the marina was well worth a little restaurant clatter and chatter. Room 201 is directly above the hotel’s popular restaurant and I figured that by checking in on a Monday, by the time my week was up, I will have eased myself into the busiest days of the upcoming weekend and that by Friday I would not mind the social noise floating up from the restaurant below me. And anyway, I love waking up to the aroma of food and coffee. I entered my suite and was pleasantly surprised, the neutral colors were relaxing, and the four poster bed was a little bit of heaven. I kicked off my shoes and plopped down on the bed. Just a few minutes and then I’ll unpack, I promised myself.
The minutes ticked by and after the better part of an hour I
forced myself to get up. Night had fallen. I switched on the bedside lamp and stepped over to peek at the view from the large bay window. The marina’s water was smooth as glass. Dozens of boats were docked and their festive lights sparkled in the clear air, bouncing in prismatic reflections off the water’s surface. A faint outline of clouds on the far horizon promised rain by morning. I left the window and began to unpack. Good thing I remembered to bring a few pullover sweaters along with my rain parka, what with a storm coming in, warm clothes will be needed.
Once I had my clothing neatly folded and put away in the bureau drawers, I turned my attention to the small writing table in the corner. I moved it over by the bay window, rearranging the small settee that was in front of the window. It was then that I noticed that my room had a fireplace. Good grief, how did I miss that? A folded card on the far end of the mantle explained how to light the fire. Of course, what with this being a hotel and many of the rooms had fireplaces, this was a gas log fireplace. How convenient, that at the turn of a knob a cozy fire kindled to life. The total effect of a marina view, storm clouds in the night sky and a warm fire inside was like magic and this little bit of magic had a dreamy effect on my mood. Now, if only I had some black coffee laced with Bushmills. Ta-dah, one might say, I had a eureka moment, because in my hour of dreamy wishing, like magic, I remembered that my friends had raved about this hotel’s room service. I decided to test my friends’ opinion and put in a call to room service. I ordered a two-cup carafe of strong black coffee and two shots of Irish whiskey on the side, with a request for it to be delivered no sooner than in twenty minutes. Undressing quickly, I dashed into the shower and was out and wearing my favorite sweats when room service knocked.