Page 53 of Air Of Mystery
Charlie and I were now officially a couple. We tried to see each other whenever we could, and as his weekends were normally busy—due to the schedule at the mansion and all the weddings—we typically got together on Sunday nights and remained together all-day Monday.
Sometimes he stayed overnight with me in my apartment. Sometimes I stayed with him at the carriage house. Either way it worked for us. September was flying by, and the first hints of autumn began to show in the leaves turning on the trees and slightly cooler temperatures in the evenings. As fall had officially arrived and October was right around the corner, ghost hunting season and requests for investigations were cranking up.
Quietly, I kept track of that old Victorian on Henry Street. It had indeed sold again, and I made it my business to discreetly drive past the house once or twice a week, looking for signs of any new residents.
I didn’t know how to feel when I spotted crews cutting down the dead trees in the front yard right after it had sold. A few days later, the exterior was being repainted to a soft gray with dark blue trim. The next week the lawn was completely redone and someone had laid fresh sod. Honestly, the house looked a million times better with all of the work they’d done on the yard and exterior, but it still made my stomach clutch every time I drove past.
During the last week of September, I went to have dinner with Sunny at her house and afterward we ended up taking a sunset stroll in her neighborhood with her beagle, Manny.
“We’re going to check on the Victorian on Henry Street, aren’t we?” she asked as we started down her driveway.
“If you’re comfortable with that.”
“Sure, it’s less than a mile away. We’re up for it.”
Manny barked happily in agreement.
Sunny reached down to pat the beagle on his head. “And you’ve been driving by to check at least once a week for how long now, Skye?”
“Damn, psychics.” I frowned at her. “You make me sound like a stalker.”
Sunny shrugged. “Nah, I know you’re still worried about that house—”
“And for the safety of whatever poor schmuck bought it.”
“Well,” Sunny said, “everyone in the neighborhood has been talking about how someone has finally put real money and effort into fixing up the place. It’s good news, you know since it increases the property value of the other homes around it.”
“I saw new paint and landscaping going in over the past few weeks.”
“Heard about that,” she said. “Haven’t seen it for myself yet. I truly hope everything stays calm for the new owners.”
“So do I.”
She nodded. “The Middleton historic district is mostly lovely...but that old house has been an eyesore to the neighborhood for years.”
Our conversation stayed casual and mostly mundane as we walked from her neighborhood and into the Middleton historic district. We chatted about Brynn’s upcoming wedding, and I told Sunny that I had reached out via email to Astrid and had received a reply.
“I suggested meeting for lunch in St. Louis, before the holidays,” I told my cousin. “She agreed.”
“That’s the first contact we’ve had from my sister in months.” Sunny blew out a long breath. “Please let me know how it goes.”
“You know I will.”
We turned onto Henry Street, and my cousin and I both fell silent as we walked closer to the old Victorian. Discreetly I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, pulled up the camera, and began to record. Holding the phone in the palm of my hand, I faced it out so that I could take a video as we walked past.
Being on the sidewalk, as opposed to driving past in my car, I could concede that the house was now more aesthetically pleasing with the new paint and fresh lawn. Out front, a couple of landscapers wearing neon colored work shirts were planting shrubs and another was adding mums in decorative containers on the porch. They were chatting to each other as they worked.
By unspoken agreement, Sunny and I had slowed our pace down, and I felt the difference in the energy almost immediately. As soon as we crossed the property line—from where the neighbor’s yard ended, and the old Victorian’s began—there was a definite shifting of energy from peaceful to sour.
My skin prickled with awareness. “You feel that?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
My cousin didn’t answer me.
Glancing back over my shoulder, I repeated her name. “Sunny?”
Sunny had gone completely still. She was staring at the old Victorian and was completely locked in on it. Beside her, on the leash, the beagle who had been happily trotting along, with his head held high, had halted too.
Manny sniffed once at the grass in the yard and unexpectedly recoiled with a single sharp yelp.
