Page 55 of The Christmas Spirits on Tradd Street
“I’ll call him as soon as we get home.” He pulled out his phone. “In the meantime, let’s each take a section of the wall and snap photos of the individual bricks. I figure we can enlarge them and print them out so we can lay them all out like puzzle pieces and see if they fit together.”
I could hear the excitement in his voice, something that had become a rare thing in recent months. Even the trauma of being yanked through a mausoleum gate by an unknown entity made it worth it.
“Good idea,” Jayne said. “I’ll take this wall.” She pointed to the wall on the left. “Jack, why don’t you take the one in the center, and Anthony, you take the one opposite mine?”
“What about me?” I bristled, feeling left out and being reminded yetagain of the trauma of PE class when it was time to choose teammates for volleyball.
“You need to be on the lookout for any drop in temperature or weird breezes that might signal that our visitor is back. Your abilities are a lot stronger than mine.”
Feeling mollified, yet guilty for being too quick to judge, I sent her a smile. “Good plan. And since it’s stopped raining, I’ll stand right outside the doorway. Just in case it locks again. I’d hate for all four of us to be trapped inside.”
They all regarded me with wide eyes. “Smart,” Jack said, his gaze not leaving the gate until I was safely on the other side.
I crossed my arms over my chest to hold in as much warmth as I could. The chill of the mausoleum seemed to have crept into my bones, unwilling to release me. I was glad, as it kept me alert, since I was unable to shake the feeling that someone—or something—was watching me.
“I’m freezing,” I called inside the mausoleum. “I need to keep moving—I promise I won’t go far.”
I didn’t wait to hear Jack telling me to be careful, and I took off in a sprint around the perimeter of the cemetery. I hoped my new smart watch was keeping track of my steps so they wouldn’t be wasted effort. I slowed as I reached the oak tree, its sad limbs now dripping raindrop tears, and I felt a downward drift in the temperature. I wasn’t afraid, though. The air had a softness to it, a sense of suspension, as if I were diving into the sea but my body was caught in midair. The smell of death and rot was gone, replaced with the scent of rain and wet grass. But I wasn’t alone. Of that I was sure.
A movement caught my attention, nothing more than a shift of shadow, except no sun shone overhead. I didn’t see her at first, her green gown blending into the overgrowth on the other side of the cemetery fence. As I continued to look, her form became less transparent, her face and clothing easily discernible. I felt my attention drawn again to the brooch worn on her bodice, the jewels in the peacock’s tail and eyes sparkling despite the lack of sunlight. I wanted to step closer to see it better, but I was afraid of making her disappear. I wasn’t wearing myglasses, so I couldn’t see her in crisp detail, and for about the hundredth time I cursed my own vanity.
I recalled the first time I’d seen her, on the stairs at my house on Tradd Street, how I’d felt as if she’d wanted me to notice the brooch, and I remembered there was something about it that didn’t look right. Maybe it had been the metal, which didn’t look quite gold. I squinted to see better, then took a step backward as I realized her feet weren’t touching the ground but were suspended at the level of the top of the fence. And when my eyes traveled upward, I saw the rope around her neck, the other end of the rope tied around a thick tree limb.
Her eyes never left my face, and her lips didn’t move, but the wordliesthrew itself at me as if it had been shouted, startling two black crows from a tall patch of grass where they’d been hunting drowned worms. They flew away in a sharp flutter of wings just as I heard Jack, Anthony, and Jayne emerge from the mausoleum.
“Did you hear that?” I asked, staring at the empty tree.
Only Jayne nodded, reassuring me that I hadn’t imagined it.
“Hear what?” Jack asked as he approached. He pulled me close and kissed the side of my head.
“Eliza was here. And I think...” I screwed up my eyes, trying to recall exactly what I’d seen.
“What?” Jack prompted.
“She definitely wanted me to notice her peacock brooch. I’m not exactly positive, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same brooch in the portrait, with four jewels in the eyes and feathers.”
“Let me guess. You weren’t wearing your glasses so you can’t say for sure. You know, Mellie, they have these things called contacts nowadays....”
“I know, I know. It’s just that my eyes get so dry and I find them uncomfortable. I’ve been meaning to make an appointment with my eye doctor, but haven’t found the time. I will, though. Soon.”
“Well, hopefully you’ll run into her again when you’re wearing glasses and can get a better look.” Jack glanced up at the darkening sky. “We should get home. Nola’s friends don’t like hanging around after dark.”
“Why’s that?” Anthony asked. We all looked at him to make sure he wasn’t joking.
“Same reason you run past Eliza’s portrait,” Jayne suggested. “This would all be so much easier if Marc was afraid of things that go bump in the night.”
“Oh, he’s afraid,” Anthony said. “He just thinks that Rebecca has some kind of power over ghosts and can control them. Rebecca’s happy to go along with it, too. But she only has premonitions, right? It’s not like you and Melanie, where you can see and talk to them.”
Jack was staring at him, but his thoughts seemed to be miles away. “No kidding,” he said, turning to me. “I think we might have found Marc’s Achilles’ heel.”
“What do you mean?”
“You once told me that bringing in a film crew might agitate some of the resident spirits. This might be a very good thing.”
I frowned. “Since we’ve maybe found a way to make Marc less interested in stealing our house, are we giving up trying to figure out this puzzle?”
Jack shook his head. “Heck no. We will use every brain cell to figure this out and to make sure Marc never gets his hands on our house or any hidden treasure. Aggravating him while scaring his pants off will just be the icing on the cupcake.”
