Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 10 Who Talked to Ghosts

Next Kristi showed him the milking parlor. "I have the milk commercially pasteurized," she explained. "Then it's sold to people who are allergic to cow's milk or find it hard to digest. Would you like a cup of tea and some cheese?"

They went into the house and sat at the table in the kitchen, the only room in the house that appeared habitable. Even so, the table was cluttered with collectibles, including a large leather-bound family bible. Kristi said her mother had bought it at an auction, and the museum might like to have it.

Qwilleran said, "You didn't tell me why your great-grandfather rebuilt the staircase."

"There was scandal involved." "All the better!"

"You won't put this in your column, will you?"

"Not if you object."

"Well," she began, "it happened early in this century. My great-grandfather had a beautiful daughter named Emmaline, and she fell in love with one of the Goodwinter boys, Ephraim's second son. His name was Samson. But her father disapproved, and Emmaline was forbidden to see her lover. Being a spunky girl she used to climb the spiral staircase to the tower and flash a light, which could be seen from the Goodwinter house, and Samson would meet her on the bank of the Black Creek under the willows. Then tragedy struck! Samson was thrown from his horse and killed. A few months later, Emmaline gave birth to a child, a horrible disgrace in those days. Her family despised her, and her friends deserted her. Then, one night during a thunderstorm, she climbed the spiral staircase and threw herself from the tower."

"A tragic story," Qwilleran said. "Is that why her father remodeled the stairs?"

"Yes, he ripped out the lovely spiral staircase and substituted the angular one we have now. When I was growing up, the door to the tower was always locked."

"How do you know the spiral staircase was lovely. Do you have a photograph?"

"No... I just know," she answered mysteriously. "What happened to Emmaline's child?"

"Captain Fugtree brought him up as his own son. He was my father."

"Then Emmaline was your grandmother!"

"Oh, she was so beautiful, Qwill! I wish I had her looks."

"I'd like to see a picture of her."

"Her photos were all destroyed after she killed herself. Her family pretended she had never existed."

"Then how do you know she was beautiful?"

Kristi cast her sad eyes down and was slow in answering. When she looked up, her face was radiant. "I don't know whether I should tell you this... I see her whenever there's a thunderstorm." She waited to see Qwilleran's reaction, and when he looked sympathetic she went on. "She walks upstairs in a flowing white robe, very slowly, up into the tower - and then disappears... She walks up the spiral staircase that's not there!"

Qwilleran stared at the granddaughter of the phantom Emmaline and searched for the right thing to say. She had paid him a compliment by confiding this personal secret, and he had no desire to spoil her story by asking hard-nosed questions. He was saved by the telephone bell.

Kristi reached for the kitchen phone. "Hello?" Then she turned pale, staring straight ahead as if paralyzed. After listening for a few moments, she hung up without another word.

"Trouble?" Qwilleran asked.

She gulped and said, "My ex-husband. He's back in town."

He sensed from her distracted air that there would be no more interview, no more tea. "Well," he said, standing up, "perhaps I should leave now. It's been an instructive afternoon. Thank you for your cooperation and the refreshments. I may call you again to check on details. And let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

She nodded and moved toward the refrigerator like a sleepwalker. "Here's some cheese to take home," she said in a trembling voice. "And don't forget to take the bible for the museum."

As Qwilleran drove the short distance to the Goodwinter place he had more than goats on his mind. He wondered about the Emmaline story. Kristi was quite emotional about her grandmother; perhaps she only imagined that she saw her walking upstairs in flowing white robes. He would like to be there during the next thunderstorm... But more serious at the moment was the phone call and Kristi's terrified reaction. He hesitated to intrude in her personal affairs, but he was definitely concerned. She lived there alone. She could be in danger.

As he was about to turn into Black Creek Lane he heard a truck approaching from the west, and he looked back in time to see a pickup turning into the Fugtree drive. As soon as he arrived at the museum he dropped the cheese and the bible on the dining table and immediately called Kristi's number. To his relief she answered in a normal voice.

"This is Qwill," he said. "I forgot to ask how much milk a goat can produce in a day."

"Black Tulip is my best doe, and she gives three thousand pounds a year. We always figure annual weight, not volume per day." She was brief and businesslike in her answer. "And you can say that she was a Grand Champion at the county fair."