Braxtonburg

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine:

Wednesday September 9th 1938

"Would this guy still be alive?" Blaire asked.

"It's a possibility. Let's say he was thirty when he wrote the articles in 1900. That would make him sixty eight today." I said thoughtfully.

I looked out the window. It was about twilight.

"I'd say we have enough time to find a phone and give him a call." I said with a nod.

With that, we went back to the elevator. We told the woman we were going down to the lobby and she pressed the button. Eventually we came to a stop and the doors opened. We walked into the lobby.

"Did you find everything you need?" The receptionist asked.

"Yeah, thanks." Blaire said with a smile.

We walked out the door and down the steps. We were now on the sidewalk.

"Where can we find a telephone?" Hannah asked.

"Paul's has one. We can use it." I offered.

"Okay, let's go." Blaire said enthusiastically.

We walked down the street to where the restaurant was located. We stepped in through the door. The place wasn't busy at all. Only a handful of patrons sat at the tables. We walked up to the counter and sat down on the stools. I saw a bell and rang it. Moments later a familiar girl walked out from the back room.

"Oh, hello. I've seen you two before." The girl said.

It was Anastasia, the waitress from when Blaire and I were here yesterday.

"Hi Anastasia, could we use the phone, by chance?" I asked.

She smiled, flipping her auburn hair over her shoulder.

"If you'd like. It's in the back." She answered, pointing to a door that let into a small room with a telephone.

I turned to Blaire and Hannah.

"Wait here, I'll be back." I said.

I then walked to the room Anastasia indicated. I shut the door for some privacy and turned on the light. I found the phone book and flipped through it. The man's name was Robert Christy. I flipped through the pages until I found the 'C' section. I flipped through some more and found a few people with the surname Christy. I dialed the first number.

"Hello?" Answered a woman on the other end.

"Hello, is Robert Christy there?" I asked politely.

"No, sorry you have the wrong number." She said as she hung up.

I found the second number and dialed it.

"Hello?" Answered a woman.

"Hi, is Robert Christy there?" I asked.

"No, sorry. Wrong number." She said.

I hung up and dialed the next number.

"Hello?" Answered an old man.

"Hello, is Robert Christy there?" I asked hopefully.

"Speaking." He replied.

"Mr. Christy, were you the one that wrote the articles in the early twentieth century concerning a Miss Willow Constance Lee?" I asked.

There was a pause on the other end.

"Yes, who am I talking to?" He asked, suddenly all business.