Erika and the Mysterious Mr. Lagren

By JoEllen Conger

Erika Laughton-Paston has recently moved into her own townhouse, against her parents' wishes. There, her life begins to change even more dramatically than she could ever have imagined. Her paranormal dreams lead her into a lover's madcap existence: a relationship with a wicked black tomcat, and a phantom lover…never considering that one day her pretend world must surely come to an end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781613090640

Book preview

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my daughter, Makai, who has loved this story even before it became a book. This book is dedicated to her pestiferous nature in her desire to see this paranormal tale in print.

Here you are, Love,

Mom

One

Erika moaned aloud .

With the air conditioner struggling to keep ahead of the unusual heat wave, it felt as though the smarmy heat in the crowded office had swallowed her. This summer had been hotter than normal in Sierra de la Cruz, and the ancient refrigeration unit installed in the office window simply hadn’t been powerful enough to keep up with it.

Embarrassed, Erika shot a quick glance over her shoulder at her office partner. But it appeared Roger Anderson hadn’t heard her. In fact, he hadn’t even looked up from his computer monitor. Its iridescent glow gleamed across his florid, sweat-streaked cheeks and highlighted where he had dragged his stubby fingers through his sweaty hair. She watched in fascination as his heavy glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he unconsciously shoved them back up and crouched even closer to his monitor screen.

She expected him to smell of sweat and was surprised that he only smelled of his expensive aftershave. She drew in a lengthy sniff before realizing what she was doing. She jerked her eyes away and tried to concentrate again on her task. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she had been watching him.

Erika shifted her grip on her clipboard. She glanced back down the long list of book titles and corresponding authors on her monitor, comparing the total to the number of hand-written titles listed on her clipboard. They didn’t match. Frowning, she was distracted as perspiration trickled down her scalp through the massive maze of black, wiry curls pulled into a severe bun at the nape of her neck.

She had gone over the alphabetized inventory listing against her written notes twice and realized that somehow she’d missed a title. The printout on her screen was one book short. She nibbled her lower lip and began reading her inventory scan again. Disgruntled, Erika set down her clipboard and sighed heavily as she massaged the cramp in her left hand from gripping the clipboard so tightly.

She grimaced as another rivulet coursed between her breasts. Not wishing to make a spectacle of herself, Erika disdainfully pressed the eraser of her pencil against her white blouse to stop its tickling flow. With her concentration broken, Erika sighed again. She threw back her head and fanned her throat.

She had sat hunched over her monitor readout so long looking for the missing book title that she hadn’t realized how tense she had become. She tilted her chair backward, rubbing her tired eyes, and the chair’s springs complained with a squeal. Lifting her shoulders, she eased the strain in her lower back. Suddenly, she jerked her head around to scrutinize the nomadic hands on the large wall clock. She was surprised to discover that in spite of her excitement to view the new townhouse she hoped to rent, the day had passed by rapidly.

Erika was seeking to relocate in response to the prestigious offer to catalogue the extensive private library collection donated to the city by the late Senator Hollingstein’s estate. She has determined to locate an apartment in town, resolute to live closer to her chosen endeavor than the Paston estate located in the foothills. The truckload of crated books had already been delivered to the library’s dark warehouse, where she had been working most of the day. It had been much cooler in the warehouse.

Even under Erika’s steady gaze on the clock’s hands, they eventually ticked nearer and nearer closing time. Impatiently, she tossed down the day’s uncompleted inventory. Thank goodness there are only a few more moments left.

When she compulsively straightened her desk, she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the windowpane. She studied it; her breathing seemed as labored as the struggling air conditioner straining loudly against the afternoon heat.

She grunted aloud with disapproval, noticing the few strands of hair that had slipped free from the meticulously twisted bun. She reached up with long, slender fingers, trying vainly to secure the errant strands. Scowling again, Erika growled dissatisfaction when her reflection had not improved.

Wwwhat? Roger stammered as he labored to tear his gaze away from his own computer monitor. Her office coworker’s florid face testified to his own struggle to cope with the unusually hot, late summer weather.

I’m sorry. Did I speak aloud? Erika muttered, distracted, shaking her head. She surveyed her slightly balding coworker’s untidy, sweat-soaked appearance, then poked again at her hair.

It’s my hair. It’s infuriating when it tickles my neck. She continued to tussle with the dangling wisps responsible for her irritability.

Roger grinned at her. I think your hair would look nice worn down, he said in earnest. As emphases he leered at her, waggling an eyebrow. Know what I mean? It would look...well, swell. Really! He nodded.

She huffed in disgust. He’d like to see my hair hanging down! Just the thought of her hair clinging to her neck in damp, sweaty disarray did not appeal to her. Why does he even flirt with me? Erika’s scowl stopped him before he could comment further.

Roger shrugged; his smile faded. He fidgeted and dropped his gaze, his face flushing. Ah... are...are you free this evening? he stammered.

Now what’s he trying?

He rose from his desk, looking hopeful. Perhaps we could go get... ah...you know...get a bite to eat before you start home? Roger rolled his eyes heavenward and fell back into his chair, his face scarlet. He looked away, suddenly examining his fingernails.

Why can’t he just leave me alone? Erika turned to address him. How very sweet of you, Roger. Really. But I have an appointment almost immediately. She turned away quickly to finish clearing the papers from her desk. Some other time, perhaps, she countered as an afterthought.

She closed out her computer and turned off her monitor and printer. She slipped the marked newspaper out of her desk drawer. Rising, she rushed to collect her things. Purse in hand, Erika automatically checked the straight seams of her simple black skirt to assure herself it hadn’t twisted while working in the warehouse.

Straightening, she caught Roger leaning over his desk, ogling her with a slight arch of his brow. When he finally lifted his eyes, she caught his lustful gaze. The man just never gives up! He smiled sheepishly and eased back into his chair. Suddenly he folded his hands over his ample belly and twiddled his thumbs.

Even though her glare was icy, Erika nevertheless returned Roger’s ‘good evening’ nod. She whirled to leave, her back ramrod straight.

Roger sighed with resignation. Well, it never hurts to ask, she heard him mutter under his breath. Annoyed, Erika marched out to her maroon Mercedes. In her present irritable mood she realized she despised Roger’s lustful attentions.

She felt faint as she stood beside her car in the heat radiating from the parking lot. Black dots shimmered before her eyes. Trembling, she fumbled with her car keys.

I mustn’t be late. I must make it to my appointment on time. The folded newspaper slid from beneath her arm and fell to the shimmering black asphalt with a resounding plop. It lay sprawled, displaying the apartment address she had circled.

Perspiration beaded at her temples. Erika braced herself against the car and critically surveyed the errant newspaper. It was so hot; she couldn’t decide whether to pick it up before or after she opened the car door. She panted in the oven-like heat and lowered her head before forcing a decision. She drew in a deep breath as she bent to retrieve the newspaper, which contained the needed apartment rental information.

Her handbag strap slipped from her shoulder. The bag crashed to the pavement, ejecting its contents across the blacktop. Struggling against her exasperation Erika squeezed her eyes tightly closed. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she breathed deeply, trying to quell her rising sense of agitation.

Here, let me help you, Roger exclaimed.

He was so close beside her that she startled. Erika sucked in a deep breath and opened her eyes. She saw Roger squatting like a toad, already nimbly tossing her personal items back into the dark recesses of her handbag. The sun bearing down on the man’s square, jacketed back accentuated his sweaty hair, curled into ringlets just above his collar. Beads of sweat bubbled on his temples.

Ugh! Erika exclaimed aloud. Embarrassed by her lack of self-control she struggled to meet this distressful turn of events with some semblance of grace. Thank you, Roger. You truly are a gentleman. She pressed her handkerchief to her forehead. Isn’t this weather simple oppressive?

Yes, it certainly is, Roger answered over his shoulder. I think it’s making all of us a bit edgy. There, all your things are here. He beamed up at her as he handed her the folded newspaper. Having retrieved her keys from the pavement, he rose to unlock her car door with a deftness not usually associated with a person of his size.

Erika remained silent as he handed her into the sweltering automobile. She fought to ignore the sweaty touch of his hand on her elbow.

Your bag, Erika. He bowed, presenting it with a flourish.

Thank you, again, Roger. I truly do appreciate your kindness. She fought to restrain herself from wiping his sweat from her arm while he still watched her.

Roger leaned onto the car. Well, he stammered, get yourself out of this heat just as soon as you can. And, I’ll see you in the morning. He stepped back, closing the door for her.

Erika watched as Roger backed toward his own car. Then, using her handkerchief she scrubbed at her elbow where he had held her arm, before dropping the linen square onto the floorboards. Yes, I’ll see you in the morning, Erika agreed through the closed window.

She realized belatedly that he still held her ignition keys. She pointed. Roger’s smile quavered and he made a wry face as he retraced his steps. He jangled her keys on the end of his extended index finger as he approached her car.

Without my keys I can’t even open the power windows. Feeling violated, Erika gritted her teeth, opened her door and held out her hand to receive her keys. As he laid them on her upturned palm she nodded her thanks.

As soon as she was in possession of her car keys, Erika started the engine and flipped on the air conditioner. She endeavored to ignore the bothersome man so intent on forcing her to like him. If he’d only realize what a waste of effort it all is, she muttered to herself. He’s such a boring little man...well, maybe not little, she gauged on second thought. She slipped the car into gear and backed out of the space, determined to ignore the pathetic figure standing alone in the simmering parking lot. She spirited her auto across the lot and expertly merged the Mercedes into the rush-hour traffic. Unconsciously, a long sigh escaped her, easing her tension, signaling her feeling of a successful escape.

Wanting to be punctual, Erika drove just a little too fast through the congested streets of Sierra de la Cruz. Yet, she felt it justified if she were to arrive on time for her appointment to view the available apartment. Turning the air conditioner vent her way, she luxuriated in the chilling blast against her hot cheeks. No wonder I’ve been so irritable. This heat is unbearable.

She tried to ignore her hair’s fluttering feathers tickling her neck. The tiny beads of perspiration on her body evaporated in the cool draft. No longer being smothered by the muggy, afternoon heat, she was able to concentrate more fully on driving safely through the evening traffic.

Erika arrived in front of the townhouse complex just a minute late. If you hadn’t dropped your purse, Erika, you could have been here on time, she reprimanded herself. She pulled the car to the curb and switched off the engine, studying the apartments with a critical eye.

As Erika surveyed the townhouses, she recalled her most recent argument with her mother. She’d been so excited about being selected to oversee the Hollingstein library inventory that she’d not given a thought about how it might affect her mother, or her reaction to her moving out of the estate. Erika winced, hearing again her mother’s shrill voice in her mind. She sighed. I abhor it when Mother and I quarrel.

WHAT! HER MOTHER’S voice had shrilled. Shocked, her mother had dropped her fork with a clatter. You want to move away from this house?

Mo-th-er, Erika had stammered, dismayed by her mother’s stinging rebuke. It’s only temporary, just till the job is finished. She bit her lip, fidgeting with her napkin. She shot a quick glance toward her father, who sat at the far end of the table. His stoic expression proclaimed his disinterest. She couldn’t tell whose side of the argument he might favor...if either.

Daddy is not going to be any help, she reflected.

First of all, you don’t know the first thing about taking care of an apartment! her mother had argued crossly. Mavis snatched the napkin from her lap and slapped it onto the table.

Well, I could learn, Erika retorted. Her cheeks had burned; the servants were surely getting an earful.

I doubt it! her mother snapped, forcefully shoving her dinner plate aside. You’ve spoiled dinner. I shan’t be able to eat another bite. Angrily, her mother motioned the maid to remove the plates.

Yes, I can, Erika stubbornly protested, her chin jutting out in defiance. Her mother’s words only made her more determined than ever to find suitable temporary housing.

Her father raised his eyebrows, seeming to mock them both. Settle this between you, he ordered. He rose from his chair, touching his napkin to his lips before tossing it to the table. Tonight! he commanded.

Erika’s nostrils flared. She knew that as of this moment she would do almost anything to prove her parents wrong. Just wait and see! Her lavender eyes flashed fire.

ERIKA COULD HARDLY wait until she investigated the furnished townhouse. She scanned the address once again, committing it to memory as she lingered behind the steering wheel, remembering every manipulative expression that had crossed her mother’s face.

I can do this! she growled. She grabbed the folded newspaper lying on the seat beside her. Disengaging herself from the clinging leather seat, Erika swung her legs out of the car and stood, then closed the door behind her.

She quickly stepped into the late afternoon shade created by the bulk of a two-story building and searched for the manager’s office. However, before she could move, an elderly woman limped hurriedly into view. Her short, hoary white curls accented her wizened countenance. The woman smiled a sweet, patronizing smile as she stopped in front of her.

Good afternoon, my dear, the old woman’s melodious voice sang. Are you the young lady to see number twelve? Erika nodded. Well, I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, my dear. I’m Miss Hodgekiss. The elderly woman introduced herself with a curt little nod, and a bird-like twinkle in her eye. I sometimes give Mr. Goodall a helping hand, you know, when he’s been called away.

Erika evaluated the woman’s following smile. It displayed her perfect little teeth in a carnivorous grin. The aura surrounding the bird-like features of the older woman shouted of a neighborhood busybody. Erika felt she’d just been summed up by a gossip’s practiced eye. Well, I wonder if I measure up to her expectations.

Come right this way. I’d be most happy to show it to you. Miss Hodgekiss turned to lead the way, her cane tapping the sidewalk with a metallic sound as she limped down the block. She spoke back over her shoulder in a confidential manner. Mr. Goodall gives me the keys whenever he has to go out, you know. If there is anything you’d like to know, I can answer anything, she emphasized. The woman laughed merrily, shaking her spare frame as she proceeded down the sidewalk. I know everything there is to know around here! the older woman seemed genuinely pleased to announce.

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, Erika thought, I’ll just bet you do. It seemed obvious to her that Miss Hodgekiss considered it her duty to meddle in everyone’s affairs—for their own good, of course. This dried-up little old woman probably knows more about her neighbors than anyone has the right to know.

In the lead by several steps, Miss Hodgekiss labored to climb the stairs to the front entrance, then turned with a delighted sparkle in her faded eyes. Her voice trembled in her excitement. She pulled the door key from her pocket, drawing in a deep breath.

Here we are. The old woman stood dramatically poised in front of the massive, ornately hand-carved, hardwood door before inserting the key into the lock.

I wish I could show this apartment more frequently, she confided. I personally think it is one of the nicest furnished apartments in the complex. Plus, its location is ideal. With an expansive wave of her arm, Miss Hodgekiss indicated the entrance with a gesture.

As you can see, you are right at the end of the block, so you only have a neighbor to one side of you. The garage is in the rear. The woman continued, Just off the alley, as I will show you.

Miss Hodgekiss patted her lips with a flutter, as though knowing she was babbling entirely too much. Then she disguised her self-admonishing thought by turning the key in the lock with a ceremonious gesture. Opening the door the old woman stepped back to allow Erika to enter the apartment ahead of her.

With high expectations, Erika flowed across the threshold into the cool interior of the entry as smoothly as an investigating cat. The room décor was graceful, fulfilling her fantasized ideas of proper elegance. Her glance darted about the room, quietly taking in an oval oriental vase filled with soft brown and orange silk flowers, accented by tall, wispy sprays of dried grasses. She recognized a scene of the Nile River in a large painting in the entry, complemented by several Mediterranean, indigo blue, hand-blown glass lampshades. A number of plush Persian scatter rugs completed the marble tiled entrance. Closet space to one side was intended to store bulky outer wear and to serve as incoming guest accommodation. Erika ran a hand down the many hardwood hangers before she closed the closet door.

Continuing into the living room, her guide prattled on. The living room, you will note, has been furnished with massive, hand-carved, Mediterranean furniture, Miss Hodgekiss swept her bony arm and claw-like hand to indicate the two couches and matching coffee table. The skeletal hand concluded the gesture with the eye-appealing entertainment center combination backed into a corner.

This! Miss Hodgekiss brayed, laying a loving hand on the flat, slim-lined television screen has the most magnificent color you can possibly imagine. She seemed enraptured by the concept. The octogenarian reflected a moment as Erika revolved slowly in the center of the large living room.

But of course, you work! the old woman exclaimed disdainfully. I guess you don’t have time to watch daytime television! Do you? It seemed more like an accusation than a statement of fact. Before Erika could retort, her guide continued her tour by stepping through a doorway into the kitchen area. Her voice droned on about its properties, echoing in the cavernous room.

Erika tightened her jaw, nearly biting her lip to restrain an impulsive remark as she hurried after her guide. The woman was already opening one of the doors leading into the garage area.

This is a double door, Miss Hodgekiss demonstrated. It makes it so much nicer for bringing furniture in or out, and other things. You have absolutely no idea! she exclaimed. Even before Erika had a chance to examine this unique feature, the old woman turned abruptly to the elevated planter box separating the kitchen from the main portion of the living room.

I don’t know whether you’re good with indoor plants or not, but, my dear, these little precious gems are very delicate. Miss Hodgekiss pursed her lips as she crooned to the plants, gently stroking a colorful leaf. I told Mr. Goodall to put in something a little more sturdy, but no! ...Well, I’m sure you must know how men are! Just insufferable! The old woman paused for effect. Hmm? She said very theatrically.

Well, if you have any trouble with them at all. The plants, I mean, of course. Miss Hodgekiss chuckled at her own droll sense of humor. "Just don’t say a word to Mr. Goodall. He knows absolutely nothing about plants," the gossip proclaimed bitterly.

Not that he isn’t a good man, mind you, the woman rushed to amend. He just doesn’t know a single thing about indoor plants. You know what I mean? Leaning over with a conspirator’s nod of her head, she braced her weight upon her cane as she awaited Erika’s response. Her expression showed disappointment when Erika noticeably made no reply. She waved a hand in true Italian fashion, with as much meaning in her gesture of dismissal as in the expressive tone of her voice.

Well, anyway, if you ever need any help with the plants, just ask me, the bird-thin woman declared. She turned to lead her charge into the dinette area. The breakfast nook seemed bright and cheery by comparison to the dark, cool living room. The long bench seats were padded with quilted yardage to match the café curtains suspended on brass–colored rings.

This feature is a very unrealistic usage of this space, don’t you agree? Miss Hodgekiss shot a scrutinizing glance at Erika, but true to character didn’t wait for a reply. She emphasized, "I think that a nice wooden table with matching chairs would have served much better, after all the money that was spent on the rest of the furnishings." Miss Hodgekiss’ scornful gesture indicated the already quickly inspected living room behind them.

Everything has been provided, even the cookware and china...you know. What does your husband do? the gossip inquired as though it were any of her business. With piercing eyes she examined Erika’s expression of surprise, straightening her posture as she waited for a reply.

Erika eyed the firm jaw and the old woman’s beady eyes demanding her response. Irritated by the question, Erika snorted. I’m not married.

Oh, too bad, too bad! the old woman crooned. This place is a little expensive for only one person, you know. Knowing that you work, and all... The crone concluded her judgment with an affronting taunt.

Erika tried to control her indignation, suddenly intuiting that this antagonistic old woman would most likely be her most troublesome neighbor. She began to wonder whether she was doing an adequate job of disguising her annoyance, but the meddlesome woman seemed not to have notice her disdain.

Well, you know, working girls don’t have all that much money, the gossip continued without tact or apology. Ah... Miss Hodgekiss suddenly canceled her next remark, waving an arm in an expression of dismissal, then brightened before she went blithely on with her tour.

Miss Hodgekiss haltingly retraced her steps across the kitchen, supporting her slight frame on the head of her cane. She stood before the doors leading into the garage. My old knees have trouble with these steps. She indicated them with a jutting jaw. If you’d like to peek into the garage, please feel free. The mobility-impaired woman stood aside. "I like this feature myself, you know, even though I