Chase Baker and the Lincoln Curse: (A Chase Baker Thriller Series Book No. 4) Read Online Free

“the moment
    Booth burst into the box, Henry Rathbone tried to save his President by leaping
    towards the killer’s gun. My guess is he would have gladly taken the bullet
    himself. But he was just too far away and Booth was able to complete his grisly
    deed.
    “However, that didn’t stop Henry from apprehending the
    killer. But Booth was packing a fighting knife with an eight-inch blade, and he
    managed to cut Henry’s arm so badly he nearly bled out on the spot.”
    “So what’s this house got to do with what you’re telling
    me?”
    “Although Clara and Henry settled in Washington, DC after
    they were married, this home is where they came to live during the hot summer
    months since it was close to Clara’s father who worked in the New York State
    Senate. Among the personal articles they brought with them into the marriage and
    into this house were the white dress that Clara wore on that fateful night…a
    dress that was stained with both her husband’s blood and the blood from the
    President. They also brought with them the Derringer that killed Lincoln and
    the fighting knife that cut Henry’s arm.”
    My pulse picks up. I grew up in this community, not far from
    here. If what he’s saying is gospel,
    I had no idea what lie right under my nose—the relics and
    the history.
    “Shouldn’t that stuff have immediately gone to a museum?” I
    say.
    “One would think so,” Balkis says. “But after the
    assassination trial and the executions that followed, Henry Rathbone began to
    obsess with Lincoln’s murder. He began to plague himself with the question: What
    if I’d just been a little bit quicker? Well, sir, perhaps if he had been
    just a little bit quicker, he might have indeed saved the President’s life.”
    It strikes me as odd that Professor Balkis, who is clearly a
    Yankee, sometimes takes on a fake southern accent. But then, he’s clearly got a
    flair for the dramatic, at least, judging from the way he dresses and styles
    himself. I can only wonder which side he chooses during the civil war
    reenactments.
    “What happened to Henry and Clara?”
    “They had three kids—two boys and a girl. They tried raising
    them as responsible parents, but the assassination always hung over them like a
    beating, bleeding heart. And as time went on, their mental capacities,
    especially Henry’s, began to disintegrate. Clara became convinced that Lincoln
    occupied her house, cursing the place forever. Meanwhile, Henry also believed
    that Lincoln was visiting him at the house and that Lincoln wasn’t happy with
    him. You see, the President blamed the Major for not saving him from Booth’s
    bullet.”
    Balkis sets his beefy sweaty hand on my thigh sufficiently
    creeping me out.
    “What happened after that?” I say, shaking the hand off.
    “Legend has it that Rathbone began to drink heavily. His
    behavior became erratic. The US Army had no choice but to retire him as a
    Colonel. He scared the children with his tirades and rants. He shouted out the
    name of Lincoln in his sleep. He shouted out the name of Booth. Once, he even
    attacked Clara in the middle of the night while they lie together in bed,
    thinking she was the Booth of his dreams.”
    Balkis’ eyes grow wider with each word spoken, each bit of
    information revealed. Like a world-class orator gracing the stage.
    “It all became worse,” he goes on, his voice now assuming a
    nefarious, low-key tone. “On the anniversary of Lincoln’s assassination,
    reporters would come from far away and beg to speak with the two people,
    besides Mary Lincoln, who last saw the President alive. Always the question of
    why Henry didn’t do more would arise, driving him even madder. In a word, life
    had become unbearable with the tremendous burden of Lincoln’s assassination
    weighing so heavily on his shoulders.
    “Then, as the story goes, Christmas of 1893 while they were
    living at the summer house for the holidays, Henry went into a rage, believing
    not only