Page 89 of The Christmas Spirits on Tradd Street
“Right. Sorry—I really am so tired. Forgive me.”
“I understand. I’m the mother of twins under the age of two, remember? I know what mental exhaustion is like.”
Anthony nodded, his gaze moving past me to the stairwell behind me. “I think I’m getting delirious in my fatigue. I keep imagining I see Elizabeth, even though I’m not at home with her portrait. And I have the distinct impression she doesn’t like me. I’m pretty sure she’s the one who pushed me down the stairs.”
“Really? And you’re sure you didn’t trip?”
“Positive. I had the bruises on my back to prove it—in the shape of a small woman’s hands.”
“Did Marc have any experiences while he was living there?”
“Nope. I seem to be the lucky one.”
“Right. The lucky one. It’s just odd that she’s picking on you and no one else. She seems to be more of an insistent spirit than a malevolent one, from my experiences with her.”
“Maybe I just remind her of someone she didn’t like when she was alive.”
“Maybe. It’s been known to happen.” My phone rang. I plucked it from my purse and looked at the screen, surprised to see it was Nola calling. She never called. I didn’t think her generation knew their smartphones could actually be used to make phone calls. “Hang on,” I said to Anthony. “It’s Nola—it might be important.”
I slid my thumb across the screen to answer, but before I could offer a greeting, she demanded, “Where are you? Didn’t you read my texts?”
“I’m at Jayne’s house, and no, I haven’t read your texts yet. Is everything all right?”
“I’m at home. I figured something out, so I left school so I could get home to show you. But you’re not here.”
“You left school?”
“Melanie!” Her tone was part frustration and part exasperation. “So sue me—but trust me, this is important. Can you come home right now? I’ve already texted Cooper and he’s on his way, too.”
“I can be there in about five minutes. But can you first tell me what this is about?”
“The code!” She nearly screamed the word, and I had to hold my phone away from my ear. “Those four words, remember? In the letter from Lafayette that Dad gave me to work on? Cognac, feathers of goldfinch, kitchen maid, Burgundy wine? We were going over our Dutch painters quiz in my art history class—I got an A, by the way—and it hit me. I know what the words mean. And it’s definitely a code.”
•••
My fingers were so cold from my race down Jayne’s driveway that I could barely fumble in my purse for my keys or pry the car door handle open. I’d almost managed to close the door when it was wrenched from my grasp. Anthony stuck his head inside the door opening. “Let me come with you. I can help.”
“Thanks, Anthony, but we’ll have Nola and Cooper and Jayne, and even Jack if he’s up to it. Right now, I think you’d be most helpful finishing up the brick puzzle. You’re really close.”
He looked so disappointed that I almost changed my mind and senthim back into the house for his coat and shoes. But then my phone dinged again and I glanced at it on the seat next to me. The message was from Nola.PLS HURRY!
I shook my head. “Thanks—but we’ve got this covered. I’ll check back with you later. Go inside now and take a nap.”
“Fine, you’re right. But keep me posted.” He closed my door and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, then stood watching me as I backed out of the driveway and onto South Battery.
I’d barely made it a block when I was met by flashing lights and a policeman rerouting traffic toward Water Street. It was apparently just a fender bender involving two cars, but it was enough to block traffic going in both directions. Biting back an expletive, I waited behind five cars to take the directed U-turn, drumming my hands impatiently on my steering wheel.
My phone beeped again. I glanced over at the seat again, expecting to see another text from Nola, but that wasn’t what it was. Instead, my screen was rapidly scrolling through all of my stored photos, mostly of JJ, Sarah, and Nola, slowing down when it got to the photos I’d taken at the Gallen Hall cemetery. I started to get annoyed—now was not the time for my phone to go on the fritz. But then I noticed the photo it had stopped on and understood that my phone wasn’t malfunctioning at all.
A car honked behind me, and I jerked my head to face forward, noticing the policeman waiting for me to make my U-turn. I smiled and waved, hoping he wouldn’t stop me for texting and driving—not that that’s what I was doing, but it might have looked that way. Beyond it being dangerous and stupid to text while driving, texting was a skill I could barely perform sitting at a desk and using two hands, much less using one hand while trying to control a car.
I smiled as I passed the officer, then hit the dial button on my steering wheel and called Anthony’s cell. I skipped all formalities as I blurted, “It’s on my phone—where I saw that pattern before!” I took a deep breath to slow down my words. “It’s on the small square inside the larger wrought-iron gate in the mausoleum. I took a picture of it, and I’ve still got it on my phone.”
“Can you send it to me right away?”
“I’ll text the picture in just a minute—I’m not home yet.”
Another text came from Nola.HURRY!!!!!
