Fifteen minutes passed.
Corrie parked her Jeep in the parking lot of the Garland Brook Cemetery.
They got out and walked to the cemetery.
Howard parked his Cadillac a safe distance away.
Howard watched Brett and Corrie walk into the cemetery from inside his Cadillac. He quickly called Sidney on his cell phone.
Sidney read another report from the sales department on his couch in his office. His cell phone rang.
“Sidney,” he answered.
“It’s Howard,” Howard said from Sidney’s cell phone. “Our two subjects just went inside a cemetery.”
Sidney looked at his cell phone like he had misheard. “Did you say they went into a cemetery?”
“Yes. The Garland Brook Cemetery,” Howard replied.
“What the hell is he doing?” Sidney asked, looking bewildered.
“I don’t know, and it does appear a little bizarre after their research in the library. They were looking at old newspapers,” Howard replied from the cell phone.
“All right, keep me informed of any more bizarre movements,” Sidney responded.
“Yes, sir,” Howard replied from the cell phone.
Howard closed his cell phone. “Don’t worry, Sidney, I’ll get to the bottom of this behavior,” Howard said, puffing out his chest.
He got out of his Cadillac and walked to the cemetery.
Corrie and Brett walked around the Garland Brook Cemetery, glancing at all the old headstones.
Five minutes passed.
Brett stopped dead in his tracks, looking at a headstone. He looked at Corrie in shock and pointed at the monument, speechless.
She looked and stared in disbelief at the headstone.
“Here Lies Matthew Sims, Born September 12, 1893, Died July 17, 1918,” read the headstone.
“I don’t believe it,” Brett said. He touched the headstone.
They looked over to their right and looked stunned at the sight of another headstone.
“Here Lies Meredith Whitestone, Born May 15, 1893, Died October 3, 1972,” read the headstone.
Corrie’s eyes welled up. Brett placed his arm around her shoulder and kissed her forehead. She rested her head on his shoulder.
At the other end of the cemetery, Howard knelt behind a headstone. He peeked over the top of the headstone, aiming his camera at Brett and Corrie. Howard used the zoom on his digital camera and snapped a picture of Corrie and Brett in this tender moment.
“Sidney will probably give me a massive bonus for this picture,” he bragged.
Corrie and Brett walk away from the headstones, with his arm around her shoulder and her head resting on his shoulder.
They walked through the cemetery, walked past other headstones, walked past two headstones, and did a double-take.
They rushed back to the headstones. “Here Lies Charles Snyder, Born December 7, 1894, Died August 30, 1919,” read the headstone.
They looked at the second headstone. “Here Lies Grace Snyder, Born February 8, 1868, Died August 27, 1919,” read the headstone. Brett looked curious, glancing around the cemetery.
“I bet we can find two other people here,” he told Corrie.
Brett held Corrie’s hand and walked her through the cemetery, looking at the headstones.
Howard stood up from behind that headstone at the other end of the cemetery. He quickly snapped a picture of Brett and Corrie holding hands and walking through the cemetery.
“I’m an awesome detective!” Howard puffed out his chest while watching Brett and Corrie check out all the headstones.
Brett and Corrie stopped at a headstone and stared at it.
“Here Lies Aaron Whitestone, Born March 28, 1853, Died August 27, 1919,” read the headstone.
They looked to the left of Aaron’s headstone.
“Here Lies Anne Whitestone, Born June 6, 1892, Died February 21, 1952,” read the headstone.
“My dreams had her as a mean bitch,” Corrie said, staring at Anne’s headstone.
Off in the background, Howard rushed through the cemetery toward the entrance.
“She’s the girl that killed Matthew in my dreams because she didn’t want Meredith to run away with him,” Brett said, staring at the headstone.
“I know. I also had a dream where she shot Matthew just like the article,” she replied, staring at the headstone.
Brett’s eyes widened. “Wait, Aaron and Grace died on the same day, and Charles died three days later. I wonder why?”
“Let’s go back to the library for some more research for some answers,” she said, holding his hand.
Howard raced through the cemetery, heading to the parking lot.
Brett and Corrie walked hand in hand through the cemetery.
Off at the far end of the cemetery parking lot, from his Cadillac, Howard zoomed in. He snapped a frontal shot of Brett and Corrie holding hands and exiting the cemetery.
Corrie and Brett got inside her Jeep.
“I’m finding this hard to believe,” Brett said, buckling his seat belt.
“I know, but it’s worth investigating,” she replied, cranking up her Jeep.
She drove out of the lot and onto the street. Howard’s Cadillac tailed the Jeep.
Later that day, at the Bartholomew County Library, Corrie and Brett sat at a computer and conducted research. They scanned old news articles.
Howard discreetly snapped a picture of Brett and Corrie sitting at the computer at the other end of the library.
“Here’s something,” Brett said of a news article.
Corrie and Brett looked at the article.
“The body of Charles Snyder was found by father, William Snyder, early this morning.
Charles Snyder was distraught over being left at the altar by his fiancé Meredith Whitestone and also that his mother Grace was murdered three days ago. He hung himself in his bedroom during the night,” Corrie read the news article.
Brett scrolled down the webpage and saw a black-and-white photo of Charles and Grace from two years before Matthew was engaged to Meredith.
“Yep. That’s Grace and Charles all right from my dreams,” Brett said.
“Mine too,” Corrie added.
Brett and Corrie both looked at each other.
“Murdered?” they both said in unison, remembering the word from Charles’ article.
Brett conducted another search and found a fascinating article titled “Murder In The Whitestone Home.”
“The Whitestone maid found the bodies of Aaron Whitestone and Grace Snyder morning in the bed of Mister Whitestone. Aaron and Grace were both shot to death by a shotgun. The maid told police that Mister Whitestone and Misses Snyder had been having an affair for the past three years. Mrs. Whitestone was visiting her sister in Muncie at the time of the apparent murder and is distraught over the loss of her husband and the discovery of their affair. Columbus Police do not have a suspect in this horrible crime,” Brett read from the article.
“I don’t have any sympathy for those two,” Corrie said.
Brett nodded in agreement. He conducted another search, and he clicked on one of the results. “Here’s one on Anne Whitestone, dated March first, nineteen fifty-two.”
“Anne Whitestone was found dead in her bed by local police officers after neighbors complained about a strange odor coming from her house. Anne was sixty years old and considered a spinster by her neighbors, who had seven cats living inside her home. Some of the local boys on her street said she was a nasty, mean old woman who would curse at them while they rode her bikes across her yard,” Brett read the article. His eyes widened, remembering something.
“Let’s get some books and do some research,” Corrie replied.
She grabbed Brett’s hand and walked him away.
Fifteen minutes passed.
Brett and Corrie left the library with a couple of books in hand. They walked over and got inside her Jeep.
Howard lagged. He got in his Cadillac, keeping an eye on them.
Brett read one of the books.
Corrie drove her Jeep down the street. “Are you hungry?” she asked him.
Brett glanced up from his book and smiled.
“I would love something to eat.”
Corrie drove, and Brett read his book. Howard’s Cadillac followed Corrie’s Jeep, keeping a couple of car lengths behind. Corrie drove her Jeep to Carino’s Italian restaurant, parking in the lot.
They went inside for dinner.
Howard waited inside his Cadillac and looked at all the pictures he snapped of Brett and Corrie. “Perfect,” he said. He opened up his cell phone and punched in a cell number.
Sidney worked at his desk in his office. His cell phone rang.
“What do you have?” Sidney asked into his cell phone.
“They’re eating at an Italian restaurant,” Howard replied.
“Good. Don’t forget to send me the pictures in a couple of hours,” Sidney demanded.
“I won’t,” Howard replied.
Sidney disconnected the call and returned to his paperwork with a huge grin on his face.
Inside the restaurant, Corrie and Brett sat at a booth with the library books on Reincarnation scattered on their table. They just got their drinks from the waiter and ordered their meals.
“I’m feeling strange about this,” she said while scanning through one of the books.
“Me too. Reincarnation is hard to swallow,” Brett replied. He sipped his iced tea.
Corrie sipped her coke. “Do you think Anne was reincarnated as Dorian?”
Brett looked at the books. “Could be. Both of them are mean as the devil,” he answered.
“I think she didn’t want us to date because of what happened in her previous life. Maybe deep inside, she knew I was Meredith reincarnated and did not want to lose you to me twice,” Corrie said.
“Now, that sounds extremely plausible,” Brett replied.
“Plus, Anne killed Matthew and got away with it,” Corrie said.
“Sounds like it, according to the Internet,” he added.
Their waiter brought their dinners.
Inside their living room, Dorian walked around with a pad of paper. She created an inventory of what furniture she would sell and which furniture she would take to Columbus.
Thirty minutes passed.
Corrie and Brett finished their dinner in the Carino’s restaurant, and he paid the check.
Brett’s eyes widened, and he snapped his fingers. “I know where we can go,” he told her.
“Where?” she asked curiously.
“I want it to be a surprise,” he said, getting up. They left the restaurant. Corrie looked curious.
Howard sat in his Cadillac and watched Corrie and Brett get inside her Jeep.
He cranked up his Cadillac and followed her Jeep.
“What street do I need to head down?” she asked.
“Do you know how to get to Jonesville Road?”
“Sure,” she replied. She made a left turn onto 10th Street and headed west.
Howard followed them in his Cadillac. “I’ve never been down this part of the area before,” Corrie said, driving her Jeep through Garden City.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Just never seem interested in the south part of town,” she answered.
“I think you’ll know why after you see where we’re going,” he replied.
“I hope it’s a good surprise,” she said, driving down Jonesville Road.
“I think you’ll find it an interesting surprise,” said Brett.
Five minutes passed.
Brett pointed at the Whitestone House Museum to the right.
Corrie looked at the house, and she turned pale. “I don’t believe it,” she cried out.
“Weird, isn’t it?” he replied, driving past the “Whitestone Home Museum” sign that was previously covered up a few days ago.
Outside the Whitestone House, she pulled her Jeep into the driveway and parked in a lot made from gravel. They got out and stared at the front of the house.
“I don’t know how to describe the feeling of seeing this house. I mean, it’s been in my dreams for years,” Corrie said, staring at the house in disbelief.
“I know exactly what you mean,” Brett replied. “Should we go inside?”
Corrie took a step back. “I don’t know.”
“Whatever happened to her happened a long time ago, so let’s check it out,” he said reassuringly. Corrie looked at Brett. “Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath.
Howard pulled his Cadillac alongside Jonesville Road. He rolled down the passenger window and leaned over the passenger seat. He snapped a picture of Brett and Corrie walking to the house, dropped his camera in the passenger seat, and made a call.
Back at his office, Sidney read some paperwork. He pulled out his cell phone and quickly opened it up. “What’s going on with this idiot now?” he promptly answered.
“They went to the Whitestone House Museum,” Howard said from Sidney’s cell phone.
“Museum? Why are they going to a museum?” Sidney replied, a little baffled.
“I don’t have a clue,” Howard replied from the cell phone.
“Keep up the great spying,” Sidney replied, then disconnected the call.
Sidney turned around and glanced out his window, rubbing his chin in deep thought.