Page 10 of Night Falls on Predicament Avenue
Taking their seats, Effie swallowed back nervous energy caused by the unorthodox meeting and the equally mystifying reason why this stranger thought she could offer him anything about the other night.
As Mr. Anderson folded his body into the chair beside her with both ease and confidence, she noticed he was taller than she’d thought when first approaching him. “You’ve just recently arrived in Shepherd, have you?” Effie struggled for polite conversation.
Mr. Anderson’s hazel eyes seemed to summarize her with one look, draw a conclusion, and tuck it away in his mind for later. Though it was disconcerting to have someone form an opinion about her with no foreknowledge, somehow Effie had the distinct impression that whatever conclusions Mr. Anderson drew, they would be correct. And that was more unsettling than she wished to admit.
“I’ve been in America for a few months now. Mr. Cropper and I arrived in Shepherd yesterday. It was then I heard about yourexperienceof a few nights ago. I’d like to ask you a few questions about it—that is, if you’re willing.”
Effie nodded stiffly. “I’m not sure what you want to know that I could provide.”
“Anything you think insignificant might be of interest to me. I would like to hear of the events you witnessed.”
“You believe I witnessed something?” Effie asked. He seemed to have expectations that she might regale him with some sordid tale of crime and gore, neither of which was available to offer.
“Did you?” he asked in return.
Effie folded her hands in her lap to avoid the urge to begin gnawing at her fingernail. “My sister did. I did not.”
“You saw nothing?” Mr. Anderson looked at her with narrowed eyes.
Effie swallowed uncomfortably. “I ... no. Iheardsomething, but the authorities have confirmed there is no evidence of harm coming to anyone in spite of what I heard.”
Mr. Anderson shifted in his chair. She caught a whiff of tobacco mixed with nutmeg. “What did she sound like, this woman?”
Effie stared at him for a moment. He didn’t even pause at her declaration that the police believed nothing had happened. Instead, he assumed her story was accurate. Effie hesitated. The man was drilling her with his intense stare, apparently weighing not only her words but also her movements, her expressions. Effie squirmed and gave in to the need to bite her fingernail.
Mr. Anderson’s eyes dropped to her finger.
Effie dropped her hand back in her lap. “Sound like? Well...” How should she answer that? She fumbled for words. “She ... she cried outnoa few times.”
A shadow passed over his face.
Effie hurried to continue. “But perhaps I imagined it? I’m not certain now. It was the middle of the night. There were screams, and then my sister and I ran away.” Like any proper-minded woman would. No. A proper-minded woman would never have been there to begin with.
Mr. Anderson leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, folding his hands in front of him as if going to prayer. Instead, he burrowed his gaze into hers. Effie noticed blue flecks in the hazel that were more predominant than green or yellow. “Did you see anything out of the ordinary?”
Effie attempted to recall because the intensity of his stare was so interrogative that she felt she had no choice. “Not really. Everything seemed normal until we heard ... until Polly saw—” Effie bit her tongue. The flicker of interest in his eyes was obvious.
“Saw?” Mr. Anderson inquired.
Effie chose her words carefully. “My sister saw something, but she is very ill and hasn’t been able to elaborate on it.”
“Is there any way I could perhaps speak with your sister?”
Effie pictured Polly in the upper level of their home, curled beneath her bedsheets, unresponsive and in a weakened state. The image made Effie stiffen and look down her nose at the stranger whose questions were obtuse and vague. “Absolutely no way,” Effie stated through pursed lips.
But Mr. Anderson was not intimidated by Effie’s attempt to appear severe. He almost looked as if he found humor in it. “Well then.” He pushed off his knees with his hands and stood.
Effie quickly followed suit.
“Thank you for your time, Miss James.”
“You’re welcome.”
Mr. Anderson turned back toward the carriage. He took a few steps, but Effie stopped him, unable to squelch the question she felt she had every right to ask.
“Why do you want to know these things, Mr. Anderson? You’re not even from Shepherd.”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “My wife has been missing for ten months, Miss James. I have reason to believe she was last here in Shepherd. My fear is that the cries you heard were hers.”
