Chapter 32
Early on Thanksgiving Day, Cora, Cisco, and Frannie faced one another around the historical society's library table. In front of each was a box of documents, and four boxes were piled on the floor, which made it difficult to maneuver around the crowded loft.
Frannie, with no plans for the holiday, had been eager to join them. "Sure thing," she replied. "You're not about to leave me out. Frannie the Ghostbuster be there with bells on!"
After Cora told Frannie what they found in the tunnel and why they were in a hurry to examine the boxes, Frannie was excited. "I missed all the fun!" she grumbled. "Why didn't you ask me to go down there?"
About the destruction of Cisco's golf clubs, however, Frannie for the first time showed apprehension and looked around nervously. "Girl, you about to see a black face turn all white! You think Angel would take out after me, if she finds out I'm helping you?"
"Yes, Frannie," Cora said, searching her friend's eyes. "We talked about this from the beginning-the danger, the need for secrecy. You were the one who said Angel was escalating, remember? We've been talking about her doing one awful thing after another-this can't be a surprise."
Cora looked away and her voice shook as she said, "I'm not worried about myself. I'm scared to death something awful will happen to one of you if I don't do everything right." She lifted her head to reveal eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Angel couldn't have picked a worse thing to do than threaten Cisco." Cisco placed a reassuring hand on her arm. Cora forced a tight-lipped smile.
Frannie leaned back in her chair and stared at the tabletop with her lips pressed firmly together. "I guess this spooky stuff's coming too close now. You know you never really believe danger is gonna touch you personally-not me! Well, I guess this is just a moment of truth, what you said about Cisco's clubs. This is real, isn't it? This game Angel's playing, she's got all the powers and we got nothing good to fight back with, only our heads."
"That's about it," Cora nodded. "Would you rather bow out, Frannie? Much as we appreciate your help, Cisco and I can handle it."
"Yeah, well, maybe it's too late for that. What if Angel knows I'm involved already and doesn't like it? What's my protection then? Seems to me, my only chance to get through this business is to stick near you and help solve these murders real quick."
"True, but...I hope that's not the only reason. I mean, I can't tell you how much it's meant to have you believe me and help me." Cora rubbed her forehead. "But if you want to give up...."
Frannie let out her loud laugh. "Give up? Who's talking about giving up? Cut the crap, girl! You just try to keep me away! You think I'm gonna sit back and watch while you have all the fun? No way! I had a moment of second-thought is all, and now third-thought's come and gone, and I'm raring to go. We find this guy, and tell Angel the truth, and she'll stop pestering us, and it's quicker with all of us working at it."
They exchanged glances and grinned.
"One more thing. It's great how you found these old boxes, but maybe we're getting carried away by that. How do you know there's anything important to us in these here papers? Why are we gonna take all this time looking through this old stuff?" She waved both hands at the boxes surrounding them.
"Actually, I don't know," Cora admitted with a lopsided grin. "Just like I didn't know an old tunnel was downstairs, or these boxes were in it. Like I didn't know I'd meet Angel at the cemetery." She poked a forefinger on the table as she made each point, then looked up with her jaw set. "I can't give you any more reason than gut instinct. It's been working up to now."
"Don't ask, Frannie," Cisco commented wryly, rolling his eyes. "Cora's always right, aren't you Cora?" he asked, giving her a significant look.
"Well, pretty much," Cora replied sheepishly. "I try not to say anything until I'm sure it's right. Why would anyone want to say something wrong? That makes no sense!"
"Most people do though. They're not all perfect," Cisco said.
Cora lifted her chin and grinned good-naturedly. "They're not me!"
"Whatever," Frannie said. "We make a good team, don't we? Cora got through this research stuff in no time, and got us all organized. I did the online part and don't forget the propping up part, and Cisco's out there hoofing it, making calls, reading stuff and providing muscle."
"Okay then, fearless leader," Cisco said, straightening his back and drumming both hands on the table. "What have you got in mind? What do you want us to do?"
"I bet it involves lists in some kind of way," Frannie said, throwing Cisco a smirk and nodding.
Cora laughed. "You're right. You know me too well." She went to the copier, made copies of a page she had been writing on, and handed one to each of them out.
"It's more an inventory than a list," she began.
"Not much difference, is there?" Frannie said under her breath to Cisco.
"There is in my mind," said Cora. "A list is things to do. An inventory is things we have. Sort of. Anyway, let's identify each document in these boxes. We don't have to read the whole thing, just enough to note in these three columns."
She held up a page and pointed at a column. "One: date. If there's no date, estimate. Month and year is enough." She picked up a document and showed it to them. "This seems to be a bill of sale for lumber. It's dated May 29, 1899-an exact date, so I'll use it." She filled in the date on the page in front of her.
She held up two fingers. "Two: names. Put down every name you think is important-people, organizations, towns. Anything else that jumps out at you, keeping in mind what we're looking for. Let your sixth sense talk to you. If you don't think you have a sixth sense, pretend. Think of it like picking words for a Google search." She held up her page again. "This is a purchase by Jim Fischer from Joseph Tedent." She wrote down the names.
"Now, the last column, the description column, note briefly the purpose of the document. It could be a bill of sale for lumber, an agreement to sell a farm, or a letter to relatives in Pittsburg. If it's not obvious, then let's talk about it and decide. This one is a simple bill of sale. Got it?"
"Got it," said Cisco.
"Got it," said Frannie, looking up with a frown. "We have seven boxes, right? We expect to get through more than a couple of inches? There's thousands of documents in these here boxes!"
Cora shifted her eyes away and promised, "It'll go fast once we get a sense of what to look for and develop a rhythm. That's what happened when I went through the newspapers. We'll recognize important things and move on. Our sorting will also help the historical society when they try to find permanent homes for the documents."
Frannie rolled her eyes with a lopsided grin. "Good to know-I'll try to keep that in mind." She reached into her box and moved a stack of files to the table in front of her. "I sure hope there's plenty of paper in that copier-we're gonna need a shitload of it!"
"One last thing," Cora said, "let's review what we're looking for. That would be: village officials; Packey's boss-Jacob Luther; Father Fitzpatrick; Reverend Tully; Mick Keating-the brother-in-law; and someone new in town that could be our mysterious stranger. The time frame is 1898. Look for events and activities about Smokey Row and Sag Bridge, political or police corruption, quarry 'quarrels', and dissent at Saint James. We want names involved in those issues and any other things Packey could have been involved with, especially if controversial or violent. If you think you've found something, let's talk about it right away."
Cora pulled out her cell phone and checked the time. "Let's stop after an hour, compare notes, and decide if we should change how we're doing this. But first figure out what we have." Cora had fallen naturally back into her lifelong habit of giving orders. There was no time for niceties-they'd just have to deal with it. Cora, the administrator, was in high gear.
---
An hour later, after tediously recording numerous bills of sale, payrolls, permits, tax records, registers, minutes, and other documents, they agreed on a simpler approach. They sorted each box by source, type of document, and date. They put ledgers, tax documents, and bills back in the boxes for another time. They set aside correspondence, minutes, clippings, court or legal documents, church registers, and papers with lengthy text for closer immediate attention. This reduced the materials by about eighty percent.
They tackled the remaining boxes in the same manner, and by early afternoon they had a good idea of the contents of all the boxes.
Three boxes contained Village of Lemont records, one from 1890 through 1899, another from 1900 through 1909, and the last from 1910 through 1919. Two boxes contained records from the First Methodist Church, dating from 1890 through 1900 and from 1901 through 1910. The last two boxes were from Saint Paul Lutheran Church, containing records from the same years as First Methodist.
Along with financial documents, the church records included registers of members, weddings, deaths, and baptisms. "Saint Paul's will be glad we've found these," Cora said. "They had a fire in the 1920s and thought all their records were destroyed. They must have forgotten they stored some in the tunnel."
"Too bad the stranger was a Catholic instead of a Methodist. We could have just looked at men who registered in 1898 for him," Cisco said. Cora jotted a note to check if Saint James had such records.
They took a break and Cisco went for sandwiches. "I hope he gets a bottle of wine too," Frannie quipped. "A bottle of wine would make this afternoon go a whole bunch better."
"It would put me to sleep!" Cora laughed.
After they ate, Cisco took the Village records, Frannie took Saint Paul's, and Cora the Methodist Church. "It's fitting, since I spend so much time in this building," she explained.
The monotonous work dragged on. Cisco had not brought wine, but they still had trouble staying awake. Most of the materials were exceedingly dull, and only the process of recording summaries on the inventory sheets kept them marginally alert. With no exciting finds, their enthusiasm dropped, conversation lagged, and the only sounds were the rustling of pages and an abundance of loud sighs. The light began to fade, and Cora was about to suggest they call it a day when she picked up a file that brought her up short.
Buried between the pages of the birth, death, wedding and baptism registers for the year 1907 was a folder an inch thick. Written on the front was Personal, Reverend Tully, 1907.
"Whoa! Look at this," Cora said, holding it up. "The great abolisher of evil himself-he was still here in 1907, I guess. That's long after our murders, but I wonder what's in here."
"Haven't we done enough for today? said Cisco.
Cora ignored the suggestion. The dreamy, tingly sensation that accompanied her premonitions surged through her. "Let me just take a look."
She paged quickly through the file. A few letters seemed to be from family or personal friends-she would read those later. A few bills for personal items, an expired bank passbook-zero balance-news clippings, funeral cards...and a large sealed envelope. Cora's scalp prickled with excitement. In a neat script, characteristic of the fancy handwriting of the day, she read, "Daniel J. Cavanaugh, January 1, 1907. Do not open until after my death."
The blood drained from Cora's face and her heart beat faster as she held the envelope up for Cisco and Frannie to see. "Look," she said, whispering. "Should I open it?"
"He's got to be dead by now," Cisco observed. "Even if he was ten years old when he wrote whatever is in there, he'd be a hundred and fifteen today. I think we can assume we're not violating his wishes."
"Yeah, girl!" said Frannie, taking a deep breath and stretching her arms over her head. "Open it! I'm ready after all this mind-numbing drivel. I hope there's something good in there. You like this stuff, huh? Baffles me why. I don't know how you stand it week after week. I wouldn't last a day."
The envelope had long since failed to hold its seal. Cora easily slipped out the contents, many handwritten unfolded pages. The paper, although showing signs of age, was not crumbly, the ink only slightly faded. Quickly scanning the opening paragraphs as Cisco and Frannie watched, Cora looked up, eyes bright with excitement. "It's a confession!" she said. "A long one...." She flipped through multiple pages.
"This'll take the better part of an hour to read, especially with this old flowery handwriting." She looked around the dim room. "It's getting dark. We might not finish, and we shouldn't show any light in here. What do you want to do? Find somewhere else to go or wait until tomorrow?"
"Fuck the lights. Risk it," said Cisco. "If this is what we're looking for, let's find out here and now."