Page 64 of The Attic on Queen Street
“Right,” I said, then took a bite of lukewarm oatmeal, not bothering to hide my grimace. I took another bite, and washed it down with a large gulp of coffee. I picked up my spoon, then hesitated when I saw that Jack seemed absorbed in what he was reading.
I replaced the spoon in the bowl, then very slowly and carefully began unrolling the doughnut bag. I had managed to open the top wide enough for my hand to fit inside when Jack sat up suddenly, letting out a small expletive.
“I just wanted a bite,” I said.
He looked at me with confusion until he saw the opened bag. With a grimace, he folded up the newspaper so that whatever he’d been reading was on top and replaced my bowl on the tray with it. “Have you seen this?”
I quickly read the headline:hope diamond or hope-less treasure hunt?My eyes swept to the byline.Suzy Dorf.I swallowed. “No, I haven’t.” Which was true. I hadn’t actuallyseenthe article.
He picked up the paper. “It looks like Ms.Dorf is resurrecting her Hidden Treasures in the Holy City series. I hope this wins thePost and Courieranother Pulitzer. Listen to this.”
Once again there is drama at a particular house on Tradd Street where a movie based on the fictionalized story of the disappearance of Louisa Vanderhorst in 1929 as interpreted by Marc Longo is being filmed. It is interesting to note that Longo is the descendant of Joseph Longo, the suspect held responsible for Mrs.Vanderhorst’s death. A source who wishes to remain anonymous calls the novel and the resulting film“farb” (“far be it from reality”)—which, for the uninitiated, is a term used by war reenactors for those participants who exhibit indifference to historical authenticity.
“This is going to make Marc insane.” Jack didn’t sound upset. “And listen to this.”
Longo, a Charleston businessman, is neither a writer nor a director by profession, which makes this journalist pay attention to the rumors that a more accurate version of the historical events surrounding the Confederate diamonds once hidden inside the house on Tradd Street was purloined and eviscerated to make a more scintillating novel and subsequent spicy film treatment.
He read in silence for a moment. “Looks like Ms.Dorf has been following the treasure-hunting blogs. She mentions the Hope Diamond and the Sultan of Brunei rumors, and the growing consensus that the most valuable part of the treasure remains hidden.” He cleared his throat.
It remains to be seen if the supposed hosts of spirits who purportedly exist alongside the living inside the home will stay quiet during the filming. Stay tuned for more on this and other hidden treasures in our beloved Holy City.
Jack tossed the paper onto my nightstand. “We’ll probably get an earful from Harvey and a bunch of threats from Marc. They’ll probably buy all copies of the paper to keep the crew from reading about the ghosts. I imagine if the activity reaches the levels we experienced in December, they’ll all quit and Marc will claim that we’re in breach of contract.”
“What will we do if that happens? I asked softly.
He shrugged. “It is what it is.”
It was such an un-Jack remark that I stared hard at him. “Really?”
“Really,” he said matter-of-factly. “There’s nothing I can do but waitand see and then deal with the fallout. And keep working on my new book.”
I held my breath, waiting for him to share his new project with me, just like old times. Instead, he said, “You and I are remarkably adept at dealing with fallout, aren’t we?”
“Except for one notable incident,” I reminded him.
“Except for one notable incident.” He studied my face. “So, what did you need to tell me? I can’t imagine you’d have more to talk about than what happened yesterday at Veronica’s. Although things do seem to happen a lot to people and things around you.”
I grinned. “You know me so well.”
He didn’t return my smile. “Yes. I do.”
Focusing on my coffee, I took a slow sip while I tried to compose myself. “Jolly had another one of her psychic experiences. She told Thomas that she saw the spirit of a girl who said, ‘The girl is in danger.’ ”
“ ‘The girl’? Not a name?”
I shook my head. “No. I guess it could be anyone—or no one, because it is Jolly—but she’s had weirdly accurate predictions before. I just want us to pay attention. I’m worried about Nola. She says that the ghost with the melted face is there to protect her—although she’s not sure from what. And then there’s Louisa. I smell her roses every day. Like she’s on alert.”
He nodded slowly. “I keep wondering what the ghost was trying to show Nola when we found her at the clock.” He reached for my laptop. “Maybe she’s been reading the treasure-hunting blogs. I figure if ghosts can make phone calls and send texts, then going online wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibility, right?”
“Probably not, but help yourself. There’s been a lot of activity on all the treasure sites.”
He propped himself next to me against the headboard. “Go ahead and eat your doughnuts while I browse. I promise not to tell Nola.”
With a quick glance to make sure he wasn’t joking, I removed a doughnut from the bag and took a bite.
“Your Melanie self-improvement worksheet is looking a little sparse.”
“Please close that. It’s a work in progress. And private.”
