Page 13 of Night Falls on Predicament Avenue
Norah hurried into the safety net of his hold, smelling deep of his vinegary cologne that clung to his shirt. A familiar scent since the first day she’d crawled onto his grandfatherly lap when she was three.
“Where’s the body?” Ralph, the younger of the two brothers and the no-nonsense type, leaned heavily on his shepherd’s crook cane. He’d been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis a decade before, and it was taking its toll the older he grew. “That dead man better not be lounging around on the bed upstairs.” Ralph’s bushy eyebrows rose in defense of Norah.
She pulled back from Otto’s hug and gave Ralph a shaky smile. “He’s not. Mr. Nielson came and removed his body. Mrs. Miller—the man’s wife—will be staying at a hotel for the time being.”
“Good,” Ralph groused. He shuffled toward the coffeepot. With a side glance at Sebastian, he harrumphed and said, “You a guest here?”
“That I am,” Sebastian answered.
“Well, leave our girl alone.” Ralph’s direct order made Sebastian smile.
Norah drew in a long breath and let it out. Otto, the more sensitive of the two men, gripped her hand and led her like a gentleman back to the chair. Like his brother, he eyed Sebastian with a similar protective glint. “You’re that podcast fella? Old crimes and all? Norah here, she’s been through the wringer. No need for anyone to take her back there ever again.”
“I’ve no intention to do such a thing.” Sebastian looked a tad confused, and for a moment Norah dared to hope he didn’t even know about Naomi. It was wishful thinking. “I’m respectful of people’s trauma,” he finished.
Norah wished Otto hadn’t brought Naomi into the conversation. Why propose the idea if Sebastian hadn’t posed a threat? She needed folks to just avoid it. Avoid the tragedy that was Naomi. Pretend it hadn’t happened. Move on. All the unhealthy things she’d been doing for twelve years in order to get to the place she was today. A place where she could interact with other human beings without losing her composure.
“Good.” Ralph handed Otto a mug of fresh coffee, who in turn set the mug in front of Norah. “We spoil our girl. ’Specially when her parents go off globe-trottin’. Her aunt Eleanor was a peach of a woman, and Norah here, she’s no different in our eyes.”
“She’s family,” Otto added.
“Family,” Ralph echoed.
“Thank you, boys.” Norah gave them both a warm, bittersweet smile. Aunt Eleanor had always referred to them as “the boys next door,” and Norah had adopted the moniker. “I’ll be fine.”
“What, after all you been through? I heard they’re blaming Isabelle for killin’ the man.” Otto slumped onto a chair next to Norah.
While she’d rather not revisit what she’d just successfully come out of, she knew the brothers. They were highly curious. As curious as they were protective. It would go better to just answer their questions, and then they would let it go.
Norah answered quickly. “Mrs. Miller said there was a woman standing by their bed, and it frightened Mr. Miller so bad that he suffered a heart attack.”
“Could happen,” Ralph said, nodding.
Otto slapped the tabletop. “’Course it could. Seen Isabelle’s ghost with my own eyes at least six times.”
“You have?” Sebastian’s expression shifted from caring and considerate to intrigued. He pulled out a chair and sat down across from Otto and Norah. Ralph did the same at the head of the table, hooking his cane on the arm of his chair.
“Sure have.” Otto nodded with vigor. “Once when I was in my fifties—Norah here was just a wee little thing—I was in the back fixin’ a door for Eleanor. Looked up at the attic window and there she was, her face just staring down at me. If I’d’ve had a camera, I could’ve taken a picture of her. She was that clear.”
“Was she young? Old?” Sebastian prompted.
Ralph snorted. “She’d been dead more’n a hundred years! What do you think?”
“She was neither,” Otto said. “Just a face and two big holes in her head where her eyes should’ve been.”
“Delightful.” Sebastian raised his brows. “And what do you know about the story of Isabelle Addington? Is it true she was murdered in this house?”
Norah shoved back from the table, her chair scraping against the floor. The three men were startled out of their conversation.
“Good grief.” Otto reached for her. “We’re insensitive old coots.”
“No, no.” Norah waved him off nonchalantly. “I ... go ahead. I just need to check on a few things.”
She hurried from the room, sensing the eyes of the three menboring into her back. How quickly Sebastian had forgotten that she’d just recovered from a severe panic attack. How fast the boys had forgotten about Naomi—about Norah’s sensitivities. And could she blame them? It had been how many years now? Twelve, almost thirteen. Like a true sign of bad luck.
Norah avoided the security of her bedroom, forcing herself to climb the flight of polished wood stairs as she had the night before when Mrs. Miller’s screams had jolted her from her sleep. She was going to need to clean the Millers’ bedroom. She couldn’t afford to turn down any reservations that came in from guests, and if the room wasn’t ready...
She let her thoughts hang and disregarded the fact that no one would be making a reservation and arriving today. That she could give herself a chance to rest and collect herself before going to that room. But it would keep her busy. She needed to be busy. Needed to focus on other tasks and activities.
