Page 76 of The Christmas Spirits on Tradd Street
I stilled. “What do you mean?”
I imagined I could see her satisfied smile at getting my attention. “She said that you and your sister and husband were working with her brother-in-law, Anthony Longo, on something involving Gallen Hall Plantation. You can probably guess how thrilled I was when I read that deposition that mentioned Lawrence Vanderhorst. The accuser claimed Lawrence was a member of an American spy ring. Which was quite a blow, I’m sure, since the Vanderhorsts were supposedly such staunch loyalists. They even quartered British officers in their home.”
She paused, as if waiting for me to agree or claim knowledge or even surprise. But I remained silent. I wasn’t sure whose side she was on, and I wasn’t about to give anything away that might filter back to Marc through Rebecca.
“Anyway,” Suzy continued, “the name of the spy ring has been lost to history, but one thing I was able to clarify was that members used the peacock as their symbol when communicating with one another. There are a few wax envelope seals embossed with a peacock still in existence in the Charleston Museum, but nothing to show who sent them, so members of the spy ring cannot be confirmed. But Lawrence’s family owned the only plantation on the Ashley River with a large population ofpeacocks”—she emphasized the word—“and my journalist’s brain would not let me think that’s a coincidence.”
“Of course it is,” I said brightly. “The world is full of coincidences.”
“Funny you should say that, Melanie. Because Rebecca told me that your husband’s favorite thing to say is that there’s no such thing.”
I swallowed, hoping she couldn’t hear it over the phone. “He may say something like that from time to time. Regardless, we haven’t found anything valuable in our cistern, and I know next to nothing about the American Revolution, the marquis, or the king of France, so I think you should find someone else to interview if you want something juicy to print.”
“But you know about Eliza Grosvenor.”
I paused, considering my next words, knowing that pretending to be completely ignorant would confirm that I was evading the whole truth. “I know she was engaged to Lawrence Vanderhorst. But why would you think I should know more?”
She giggled, and my teeth ground together. “When I came to your office a couple of weeks ago to see if you were available, that handsome husband of yours was there with the children and had placed a stack of photocopied documents on the receptionist’s desk while he prevented World War III from erupting in the double stroller. I couldn’t help but notice the biography of Eliza Grosvenor, where someone had helpfully highlighted both Lawrence’s name and the wordsspy ring. If that’s the story your husband is working on now, I can’t wait to read it.”
Despite all the evil spirits and vengeful ghosts I’d faced in my life, nothing put more fear in my heart than hearing those words come from Suzy’s mouth. As casually as I could, I asked, “Did you mention that to Rebecca?”
“No. Not yet, anyway. Would you not want me to?”
The pedicab took a right on Market Street and stopped in front of Charleston Place. I held up my finger to indicate I needed a minute. I closed my eyes, remembering Jack’s face when he’d learned about Marc’s subterfuge, and when Jack’s book had been canceled and Marc’s book on the same subject had been published to so much acclaim. I wasn’t sure if either one of us could bear it for a second time. “No, Suzy. To be honest, I wouldn’t want you to mention it to anyone, but especially not someone with the last name of Longo.”
“I don’t know, Melanie. That’s a lot to ask a journalist who’s trying to get answers.”
“Hold on,” I said, digging in my purse for money to pay the pedicab, thankful for the few moments it gave me to think. I was silent as I watched the pedicab leave, the phone pressed to my ear.
“Melanie? Are you there?”
“Yes. I’m here. What kind of answers are you looking for?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe exclusive access to whatever is going on in your backyard and how it connects to Gallen Hall. I know that the legendary treasure entrusted to Lafayette has some connection to the Vanderhorsts, and I want to be the first to know about it.”
“But if there’s no connection, and nothing to be found in the cistern or anywhere else?”
“Then I want to interview you. I want to witness you talking to the dead and I want to tell my readers. Or put it in a book. I’ve been working on one for a while, about interesting Charleston residents of the past and present, and I think you’d be a perfect fit. Anyway, I’d say access to you would be a fair trade for my not sharing any of this with Rebecca, don’t you think?”
“Mama!”
I turned at the sound of the little voice, my heart softening when I spotted JJ and Sarah in their double stroller as my mother pushed them toward me on the sidewalk, two sets of chubby little hands reaching for me. “Look, I’ve got to go. Can we talk later?”
“Sure. Just don’t wait too long. I’ve got deadlines, and I’ll need to print something to keep my readers wanting the next installment.”
I began walking toward my mother and the stroller, feeling a flash of anger at Suzy Dorf, this virtual stranger who could destroy everything I loved. “You’re all heart, Suzy.”
After a short pause, she said, “I’m just trying to do my job. For the record, I’m not a fan of Marc Longo, either. He ruined my brother, bankrupted him in a sour business deal. I know how he operates and I’d rather see you and your husband end up on top of this. But I’ve got newspapers to sell.”
“I just need to think about it,” I said as I reached the stroller, then bent down to look at my beautiful babies.
“You do that. And, Melanie?”
“Yes?”
“I wanted you to know that I saw Jack a couple of nights ago at the Gin Joint. He was by himself, and he only ordered ginger ale. But he kept looking at the menu again and again, asking the bartender lots of questions. And I don’t think it was for book research. Just thought you should know.”
Something that felt like a block of ice gripped my heart. “But he left without ordering anything, right?”
