Oh, and she didn’t grow up in Connecticut. Like the woman she so hated, she was born and raised in Trenton, New Jersey. That’s how she met Vito Travini, becoming his mistress at the tender age of seventeen.
Some things Angie did share with us were true. Like the fact Thomas and Sylvan Cabrini had three sons in addition to their lone daughter, Delores. She did grow up with three brothers, which leads us to some other interesting findings. When the coroner’s office completed their autopsy of Angie’s body—and keep in mind they didn’t know her real name was Delores Cabrini yet—they discovered something very interesting. Angie’s body looked like a female, but it wasn’t.
Say,
what??
Yeah that’s right. The corpse had no ovaries…just a pair of testes that never dropped down. Her vagina was superficial, a shallow path to nowhere. So, technically Angie
was
a dude after all. A dude in a beautiful girl’s body, that is. Such information could account for the guy
and
girl I sensed pursuing us, and Fiona’s pronouncement that the killer ‘struggled in determining his sexual identity’.
But this gets even better…at least in terms of interesting. Once the findings were reported to Ed’s office, who in turn contacted the authorities in New Jersey, other medical documents soon came into play. These are hospital records from shortly after Delores’s birth. It turns out she was born a hermaphrodite, and rather than run the usual battery of tests to determine the dominant gender, Thomas Cabrini insisted they make the infant into a little girl. So they removed the phallus, and voila! the kid who should’ve been a David or Don became Delores instead.
No wonder she killed her dad later on. He was probably some sick incestuous letch who wanted a play thing. That alone would be horrible enough. To go through life as a male disguised as a female? Let’s just say it gave us all a more compassionate outlook on her. Of course, it doesn’t justify her actions, the brutal murders, but it does explain a lot. That’s probably where the ‘cutting’ behavior originated from, I imagine.
Anyway, I think that clears up any doubts concerning Fiona’s accuracy. Hell, if Angie had been aware of what Fiona told me in private about the ‘red haired dude’, she’d have seen for herself that my wife’s psychic gifts are the real deal.
What’s next for us?
Well, for one thing my band has a major showcase coming up in early November. A major metal label is interested in us.
Real
interested. But they want to see how a tough rock n’ roll audience reacts to us. We’re booked to play at some big auditorium in New York City the weekend after Halloween. Some place called the Palladium, I believe. Chris and Ricky are handling the arrangements, along with our manager, Michael.
So that’s cool—I’m totally jazzed.
However, I’m just as excited about what’s brewing for Nash-Vegas Paranormal. All the pilot investigations for the television series were shot in September, along with the first two studio audience installments. That gets aired toward the end of this month. Fiona and Jackie are handling everything regarding the series, but it looks promising. The corporate execs are already talking possible expansion to a national program.
That’d sure be nice.
In the meantime, it’s too early to quit my day gig. Call center B.S. remains the same, especially since our busiest season is upon us. The holidays.... You know, gotta sell the newest cell phones, rate plans, and be ready to try and fix whatever’s wrong with our service. There’ll be no shortage of unhappy vermin clogging the phone lines once the holidays get here. Of course, if any of my corporate bosses ever read any of this, I might get a really big promotion myself, and quick. To ‘customer’.
That’s everything for now. Lots of irons in the fire usually translate to more to write about later. Stay tuned.
Oh, yeah, I almost forgot.
There is one other thing, and at this point I can’t tell if it’s a big deal or not. Fiona doesn’t sense much to worry about, so I try to remind myself of that fact. But it’s real hard to do sometimes…especially late at night when I’m alone. I could be driving home from band practice, watching late night TV by myself, or lying awake in bed—even with Fiona lying peacefully at my side.
That’s when I catch a glimpse of something. Something dark and menacingly cold. Usually out of the corner of my eye, and then it flits away, like the phantoms created by a car driving by, where the headlights impose shadows inside a darkened house through a window. Everyone should know what that’s like.
If only this was that definable, with a logical explanation, I’d have never mentioned it.
But always I sense this particular ‘presence’ before I see anything to confirm it, and often the gooseflesh along my arms and neck is what alerts me…danger nearby.
I hope it’s some harmless ghost, traveling through on the way to some other place. May it get there soon, and may it
not
be someone I know. Someone whose death is pretty much my fault.
Okay,
all
my fault.
It better not be Delores Cabrini’s vengeful spirit.
Angie.
That’d
really
suck!
***
Author’s note:
Many of the characters, locales, and situations in this story are based on actual people, places, and events. The names have been changed as appropriate to do so.
Cordially,
Aiden James
The End
Now available on Amazon Kindle:
CADES COVE
A Novel of Terror
by
Aiden James
(read on for an excerpt)
“
Yep…I believe this must be it!” David Hobbs motioned for Miriam, his wife, to join him on a rock ledge overlooking a secluded ravine, roughly a mile’s hike from John Oliver’s famous homestead in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. He smiled, impish, like a kid with a dirty secret.
It’s here…right where Ned said it would be!
“
Are you sure?” Miriam panted as she caught up to him. Her irritated tone clearly announced her desire to end this unexpected adventure off the beaten path.
“
Will you just look at this place!” he enthused, trying to ignore her perturbed glare. “Welcome to the Smokies’ oldest ‘Lovers Lane’, darlin’!”
He tipped the bill of his Rockies ball cap toward the view before them. A lush carpet of grass covered the ravine, and colorful wildflowers nestled in the shade from tall eastern pines and hardwoods.
She glanced down into the ravine and smirked.
“
I guess it’s nice,” she said, lacking any enthusiasm. “The horseback ride we planned last night would’ve been better.” She removed her backpack and let it fall to the ground before sitting down on a large rock nearby. Her agitated sky-blue eyes peered at him through long dark hair while she massaged her tired legs and ankles.
“
I thought you wanted ‘romantic’,” David retorted, smiling, though finding it harder to hide his own growing irritation. He had carefully maneuvered their venture to this remote destination, hoping for a new way to sweep her off her feet. “How much more romantic can it get than being here, in this beautiful place
and
on a day like this?”
The weather perfect for October, the temperature hovered in the mid-sixties with a clear sky above. He winked at her and this time she giggled.
“
You see? There’s my girl!” Still carrying his backpack, he moved over to hers and picked it up, motioning for her to follow him. His knees suddenly weak, it reminded him of when they first dated back in college. “Let’s have a look around.”
He stepped down from the ledge into heavy brush, wading toward the heart of the ravine. From the looks of things, no one had been here in quite awhile. A feeling of serenity surrounded him. Immersed in waist-high grass and thistles, he tried not to think about what might be slithering along the ground near his feet.
“
Aren’t you afraid of being bitten by a snake or something?” Miriam called after him. “The park ranger back at the Cable Mill said water moccasins and copperheads are out here!”
David ignored her and muttered a quiet prayer that the snakes had already gone into hibernation. Meanwhile, Miriam’s hushed curses echoed lightly across the ravine as she scurried along the path he’d created.
“
Now isn’t this something?” he asked, once she caught up to him.
Thick wildflowers in abundance, his hunch about the snakes seemed correct so far. Relieved, he thought this out-of-the-way locale mentioned by his boss, Ned Badgett, might be worth the trouble after all.
Majestic oaks, chestnuts, and maples grew along both embankments, and the rutted earth beneath their feet hinted that a stream once coursed through here. The leaves had begun their seasonal change, offering a brilliant sea of red and orange amid towering evergreens. Wild roses, geraniums, and orange jewelweed added even more splendor.
“
Yes it is,” she conceded, grinning while she looked around.
David wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. His trimmed blond beard brushed against her cheek as she reached up and kissed him.
“
Sorry I was a bitch.”
“
It’s all right, baby.” His hazel eyes twinkled, mischievous. “I’ll let you make it up to me after lunch!”
“
Oh yeah? We’ll see about that!”
She playfully jabbed him in the side and he feigned an injury before moving across the ravine to a large oak, where he set the backpacks down.
“
Did you notice the markings on all of the trees?” He asked, when he returned to where she stood in the middle of the ravine.
A multitude of scrawled names covered the tree trunks. Carved hearts enclosed most of them. It sort of reminded him of a guestbook, like a giant version of the one they signed when they picked up the keys for their rented chalet in Gatlinburg last night. Ned told him this ravine was the spot most frequented by the area’s young lovers during the late 1800s and on into the early1900s.
“
This is really something,” marveled Miriam. She scanned the list of names surrounding her. “Didn’t you say there’s supposed to be like a thousand names here?”
...
Mary Ellen + Joshua, Milton + Anna, Shannon + Edmond
...
“
That’s what Ned told me,” he said, while studying those cut into the tree nearest him. “He called it the home of Cades Cove’s star-crossed lovers…apparently his ancestors once lived around here, before everyone moved out in the 1930s.”
...
Johnny Lee + Pauline, Samuel + Bertha, Thelma Lyn + Adam...
“
Well, that’s interesting…. Here’s one with a date,” she said, pointing to one of the more faint inscriptions.
Walter Smith + Marylee Oliver, June 13, 1908
.
“I wonder if there are any more like it.”
David glanced around the ravine until a yellow poplar caught his attention.
Harold Potts + Samantha Pope, September 14, 1932.
“
I’ll bet we could find some older names back in there,” he said, motioning past the former streambed to a heavily wooded area.
“
Maybe later,” she replied. “My stomach’s growling, and I’m starting to feel a little weak.”
“
I guess it can wait,” he said. He noticed now that her smile had faded. It continued to die, morphing into a worried frown. It was like the place suddenly creeped her out. He gently grasped her hand to lead her back across the ravine. “In the meantime, I’ve got something special planned for lunch.”
Determined to see his amorous plan through to its completion, David offered an assuring smile once they reached the shade of the large oak. So far, Ned was right about this place, thank God. This secluded ravine from years past seemed like the perfect spot to rekindle their passion. Their marriage of fifteen years stood on solid ground, but over the past few years intimacy had waned. For him, the shortage of steady sex finally opened his eyes to what she really needed: Truer affection, where daily emotional and physical contact didn’t always mean intercourse lingered on the horizon.
He began removing the contents of his backpack, laying out a large picnic blanket next to the oak tree’s base. He noticed her surprise when he produced two elegant place settings. Cold fried chicken from a local deli was the main entrée for their lunch, since it seemed easy for him to pack and serve. But to ensure she appreciated his romantic intent, he brought a bowled candle to light along with two crystal wineglasses and a bottle of expensive Chardonnay, her preference for special occasions. With everything arranged to his pleasure, he asked her to join him on the blanket.
“
Well, this is
really
nice!” she enthused, smiling as she sat down, obviously touched by his effort.
“
To our fifteenth
fantastic
year together, my love!” he said, pouring the wine and handing one of the glasses to her. They tapped their glasses together, and the pitch resounded throughout the ravine. A gentle breeze suddenly moved among the trees.