― Rabindranath Tagore
Trouble Times Three
Our exploration of the cliff yielded more discoveries than we could ever have imagined.
It turned out the Dark Lady was protecting an ancient sacred place where the ancestors' bones were resting and where rituals were displayed in cave art and offertory fires to the powers that be.
Our trip resulted unfortunately in a sprained ankle for Kate, but that turned out to be a stroke of luck for it led us to seek shelter in the cave and gave us insight into the Dark Lady and her concern for preserving the legacy of her tribe.
Both Kate and I wanted to preserve the sacred site and not have it subjected to archeological investigation.
But what bothered me was back in the past, Cole had no such reservations and was more concerned with securing a scoop for his newspaper than thinking how his actions would result in the desecration of a sacred aboriginal site.
I found his attitude disgusting but what really upset me was to think I was Cole in a previous existence somewhere back in the Twenties.
Talk about skeletons in your closet...it made me sick to think that in any lifetime I could be that insensitive.
But this was crazy thinking because I didn't believe in past lives or reincarnation. But perhaps, by researching this person's life I could convince myself my strange dreams were simply the products of my own imagination.
The next day after my morning lecture, I went on-line in search of any information on this mysterious 1920's man named Cole who was a reporter for a Toronto newspaper. I found him in less than five minutes―apparently, his full name was Cole Turner and was feature writer for The Toronto Telegraph back in the early Twenties.
I was elated by my success but then the trail went cold. I could find no mention of him after 1923. I sat in the Hart House Grill morosely sipping my coffee and feeling defeated.
"Good afternoon, Si," said a friendly male voice behind me and I turned to see a smiling Walter Chapman. "Mind if I join you?"
"Walter! So good to see you," I smiled. "Sorry I didn't notice you―I was deep in thought."
"You did seem a bit glum," he confessed, "so I thought you might need some cheering up."
"That was very thoughtful. Thank you."
"Is there any way I can be of help?"
"It's a small problem really. I was trying locate information on a feature writer who worked for The Toronto Telegraph back in the Twenties."
"I might be able to help you," he laughed, "I actually know a woman historian, Kimberly Connor, who wrote a book about the paper. She has access to all kinds of material about The Telegraph. I'll email you her contact information when I get back to my office."
"Thanks so much, Walter, you're a lifesaver."
"Glad to help, especially considering the fact that your friend, Lucas Thatcher, is one of the best tech assistants I've ever had work for me."
I laughed. "I take no credit for his expertise other than the fact I know him."
"Same is true for me and Kimberly. I guess we all profit from just being friends."
I was glad at that moment that Walter was my friend and not just because of his contacts.
True to his word, Walter sent me Kimberly's contact info and I emailed her right away to ask for information on Cole Turner.
Within minutes she emailed me back and informed me she was on campus and would like to meet with me at four in her office.
I readily replied and thanked her for seeing me on such short notice. Her office was located on the second floor of the Sidney Smith Hall on Saint George Street about a ten minute walk from my office.
I spent the rest of the afternoon preparing lectures while trying not to speculate about who Cole Turner really was and if he was in fact the insensitive oaf I feared he might have been.
Just before four I showed up at Kimberley's office and met an extremely attractive young woman who exploded all my stereotypes about what a female historian should look like―she definitely broke the mould on this one.
She had dark smokey hair and grey eyes and was extremely beautiful.
After we completed our introductions I had to ask her what prompted her to write a book about a long-defunct newspaper.
"My great-grandmother was Emily Lake who was a close friend of Cole Turner. She used to tell me stories about the newspaper in its heyday back in the Twenties and her favourite character was Cole Turner who was enmeshed in a lovers' triangle with Emily and her rival, a woman named Quinn Anderson."
Hearing her casually mention two characters from my dreams shocked me to the point where I began trembling with anxiety.
Kimberley noticed my distress and immediately tried to reassure me. "Obviously, this isn't just a casual inquiry Si―you've got some skin in this game."
I nodded mutely. I had no idea how to tell her without appearing quite deranged.
"Look," she smiled gently, "I have no intention of prying into your motives for wanting this information. The parties concerned are dead and I've done the research and have first-hand reports from my great-grandmother, so anything I have, you're welcome to it. It actually gives me pleasure to talk about it because I find the era fascinating."
"Do you know anything about Cole Turner's interest in a bootlegger's cave that turned out to have some archeological significance?"
Her eyes lit up. "That was my great-grandmother's favourite story. She was competing with Cole for the story and knew there was a rumour of a cave with wall art but the bootlegger who was storing booze there had gone to jail and was using the info about its location as leverage to get a lighter sentence. But before he could work a deal he was killed in prison."
I was disappointed. "So, was that the end of the matter?"
Kimberley shook her head. "No, there was a girl name Genevieve who knew where the cave was located but wanted to use the information to get close to Cole. But Cole was involved with Quinn Anderson who saw Viv as a rival and wanted Cole to stay away from her. So Cole ended up caught in this woman trouble and as far as I know was never able to extricate himself from it. He finally left the country and was never heard from again."
I frowned at the twists and turns of Cole's life. "But what about the cave―did Viv ever reveal its location?"
"Apparently, she had a change of heart and never did reveal its whereabouts. She went to her grave with that secret. It's all very romantic and mysterious don't you think?"
"It sounds very tumultuous."
She nodded. "Oh, by the way, a famous Expressionist painter back in that era was fascinated by Cole's story and painted a canvas depicting Emily, Quinn and Viv in clockwork order and called it Woman-Times-Three. Seems appropriate doesn't it?"
She had no idea how appropriate, since Cole Turner's present incarnation was sitting in her office.
.