Page 27 of The Attic on Queen Street
“Hear what?” my mother asked, tilting her head.
“That song. It sounds very tinny—like it’s coming from someone’s headphones.”
“That’s funny,” my mother said. “I don’t hear the music, but my feet want to tap out a steady beat.”
My eyes widened with realization. “Hang on one second and let me go get what I wanted to show you.”
I dashed inside to the kitchen, where Jayne was feeding the twins while Mrs.Houlihan stood at the stove, accidentally dropping bacon bits onto the floor for the three dogs.
“Mother wants to see you,” I said to Jayne. “She’s out in the back garden. I have to run upstairs and get something. Mrs.Houlihan, could you please finish feeding the twins?”
“Of course,” she said, beaming at JJ and Sarah.
I kissed the tops of their heads—barely missing a clump of scrambledeggs mixed in with JJ’s thick hair—then ran upstairs to retrieve the Discman and the yearbook. When I returned to the garden, Jayne stood awkwardly in front of Thomas while attempting to form a comprehensible sentence. Growing up in the foster system and being a career nanny had not taught her how to relax or hold a conversation with the opposite sex.
“You’re standing here. With shoes,” she managed to say to Thomas before shooting me an accusatory glance.
“I am,” Thomas said with a grin. “It’s good to see you again, Jayne. It’s been a while. Are you and Anthony...?” He didn’t appear able to finish the question.
“He’s a man,” Jayne offered.
“They’re not,” I interjected. “Not after we found out he’d been lying to us and secretly working with Marc. Not that it worked out for either of them.” I gave a short laugh. “Jayne gave him a very nice shiner, although he deserved much more. Didn’t you, Jayne?”
She nodded, resembling a bobblehead more than a sane woman. I’d hoped that her former familiarity with Thomas meant she wouldn’t have to go through the awkward phase with him again. Apparently, I’d been wrong to. To distract them both, I held up the yearbook and the CD player, then walked over to the small wrought iron café table that had once sat in the now-obliterated garden. It currently rested on wobbly legs on the brick patio, causing me to hesitate before carefully putting the book and the Discman on top of it.
“I know you already saw these, Thomas. They were in Adrienne’s box in Veronica’s attic. It’s where you found the charm necklace.” My fingers reached automatically for the chain I now wore all the time. I’d tried leaving it in my jewelry box, but it would keep appearing wherever I happened to be. I thought I’d save Adrienne the trouble by just keeping it around my neck.
Thomas picked up the CD player. “I did. I even had this redusted for fingerprints. But by then it had been handled so many times, it made any of the results irrelevant.”
Jayne picked up the yearbook and opened the front cover, displayingthe autographs and drawings of Adrienne’s friends. “Were you able to find all of these people to interview?”
Thomas nodded. “Those we could identify. There were a few with nicknames that we couldn’t trace to anyone. We asked those we could find and we were able to identify a few more, but there were still a few we couldn’t. The fact that she was killed at the end of the school year meant Adrienne’s yearbook had a lot of autographs in it and we had great hopes it would offer at least one clue we could use. Sadly, no new leads there. Basically, we’re back to where we started. Unless...” He looked pointedly at me.
“Unless Adrienne can tell me more. That’s why I brought these.” I paused, something I always did so I could do a mental check of those present to ensure I didn’t say anything alarming to the uninitiated. “She told me to.”
Thomas’s brow furrowed as he flipped the CD player over. “She did?”
“Well, not in so many words. But she more or less showed me.”
He nodded absently, turning the machine over again, then hitting theopenbutton. His eyes met mine. “Where’s the CD?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you. Was there one inside when you went up in the attic with Veronica?”
He shook his head. “No. But on the original police report, it listed a CD in the player.”
“Was it a Laurie Anderson album?” I asked.
He frowned for a moment. “Yeah, I think so. I’ll double-check, but I’m sure that was the artist. I remember it because I had to ask who she was.”
“She was famous for her one-hit wonder in the early eighties, ‘O Superman,’ ” Jayne said. She spoke slowly, focusing on each word. We were definitely back at ground zero.
“I’ve never heard of it,” Thomas said.
“No one has,” we said in unison.
“But once you have, you’re not likely to forget it. It’s like after food poisoning when every time you smell a particular food you have flashbacks of the nausea. It’s really awful while at the same timeunforgettable.” I shook my head, trying to clear it of the steady beat that had wormed its way inside.
“There’s something more,” I added. “It wasn’t just Adrienne in the attic. There was another spirit up there. Someone not happy to see me. Someone who’s quite insistent that I don’t want to know the truth.”
