Page 27 of The House on Prytania
The sound of small feet running from somewhere in the back of the structure made us freeze.
“Just this once, Nola, could you please stay here in case I need you to get help? I’m just going to check the back of the house to make sure there’s no one here.”
“But...”
“Nola, please. I know you’re more than capable of protecting yourself. But I’m bigger than you.”
I hated to tell him that he was right, so I didn’t. “It sounded like a small child,” I said.
“I know.”
I watched as he headed into the next room—the dining room, judging by the table in my line of sight. Single shotgun houses were designed without hallways, each room leading to the next, allowing for lots of family togetherness whether you wanted it or not. If the front and back windows were open at the same time, a breeze could run the length of the house as natural air-conditioning, the lofty ten-foot ceilings adding to the ventilation. Front porches were mandatory for hot summer days, lending themselves to general community socialization. They weren’t used as much since the invention of air-conditioning, but porches were still a staple in New Orleans.
Beau’s footsteps faded away as he disappeared into the back of the house; then he quickly returned. “It’s a camelback,” he said. “Can’t see it from the street, but there are stairs off the kitchen to the second floor.” He held out his hand palm up, just like I did for Mardi. “Stay here,” he reminded me.
“Whatever,” I said, keeping my hand on the doorknob, the door open just in case. “And I’m not a dog,” I added to his departing back.
“I’ve noticed,” he said, as his footsteps disappeared again. Before closing the door I waited until I heard the slow progress of his steps.
I began pulling aside the heavy velvet drapes on the tall windows, coughing as the layers of dust complained by erupting into clouds of thick motes that coated my nostrils and throat. Undeterred in my quest for brightness, I yanked open the shutters, allowing in streams of sunlight diluted only by windows that hadn’t been washed in years.
He returned quickly. “Did you see anything?” I asked, fiddling with the puddled fabric at the bottoms of the drapery panels.
“Nothing. All the windows and the back door are locked. Therewere only small footprints in the dust on the floor on the stairs and in the apartment on the second floor.”
“Did you...?” I stopped, unsure how to continue.
“Talk to him? I mean, I think it’s a boy, but I can’t be sure. But no. I need to know he’s the only one here before I attempt to communicate. Maybe you can help me figure that out.”
“All right,” I said slowly.
“See what I did there?” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I just asked nicely for your help, and neither one of us burst into flames. That’s a good sign, right?”
“A good sign of what?”
Beau turned and yanked aside the curtains on the second window. With a sidelong glance and an arched eyebrow, he said, “I have no idea.”
The sounds of a car engine and then slamming doors brought our attention to the front of the house. Peering through the murky windows, we spotted a dark maroon late-model Buick sedan and two women who studied Beau’s truck before approaching the house.
“Isn’t that...?”
“It is.” Beau swung open the front door and stepped out onto the porch. “Can I help you ladies?”
They looked at him with varying expressions of surprise. Mrs. Wenzel pressed her lips together before lifting the bird and its cage from the car. “Are you the buyers?” Honey asked excitedly.
“Potentially,” Beau said. “Or, at least, my grandmother, Mrs. Ryan, is. She sent my associate Nola Trenholm with me today to get a deeper understanding of any restoration work needed.”
They joined us on the porch, Mrs. Wenzel frowning deeply, scoring ridges on either side of her mouth. “The house is in perfect condition. I myself have seen to the upkeep over the last several years, so I would know. Ever since our half brother and family disappeared.” The small blue bird flapped its wings in agitation. Mrs. Wenzel leaned down to peer into the cage. In a sweet, high-pitched voice thatseemed out of place on the elegant woman, she said, “I know, sweet baby. They left you behind, didn’t they? All alone with no one to care for you.” She straightened, the frown back on her face. “Zeus doesn’t like to be alone, so he goes with us everywhere now. This was his home. I thought he might want to see it one last time.”
“Mrs. Ryan is your grandmother?” Honey asked with a hopeful note.
“Yes,” Beau said, eyeing the bird with caution, his curious stare thankfully not reciprocated. “And I agree that the house appears to be in great shape. It’s just a bit dat—”
“Beau means to say that the décor is a bit too sophisticated for today’s buyer,” I interrupted. “That could be why you haven’t had any takers despite its having been on the market for so long.”
“And not having central air,” Honey added, looking like she almost believed it.
Mrs. Wenzel looked at her sister and shook her head. “Or,” she interjected, “it has more to do with the unsolved murder of our stepmother in the house, and the disappearance of our brother, his wife, and their young daughter. They call houses like this—”
