Page 16 of Night Falls on Predicament Avenue
“Will you?” he asked again, his voice dripping with a mesmerizing quality that seemed to hypnotize her. And being hypnotized was never a safe position in which to find oneself.
“You told him what?” Bethany Todd stared incredulously at Effie, her eyes as big as Mother’s salad plates. She had approached Effie no more than an hour after Effie had found herself agreeing to an appointment tomorrow with Mr. Anderson and his assistant Gus.
Effie wrung the gloves she’d nervously pulled from her hands with not a little desperation. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just—”
“You were enamored by a striking and foreign stranger.” Bethany searched the room for Mr. Anderson, who had suspiciously vanished. She sighed dramatically. “Oh, to be wooed by a mysterious man who has no boundaries but those of his own making!”
Effie gave a small laugh, then quickly composed herself. “Bethany, you’re being ridiculous. He’s married—he’s searching for his wife!”
“Did she run away?” Bethany tilted her head forward again, her face alight with curiosity. “Was it a torrid affair, and now he wants to find her and her lover and do away with them both? Oh, Effie! What if he’s the killer and you’re walking right into his trap?”
Bethany made a reasonable point. Effie mustered courage. “Really, I highly doubt that.”
Bethany scowled. “Well, if you are murdered, I will tell everyone who was responsible.”
Effie choked and then cleared her throat. “I appreciate your tenacity to rise to my defense.”
Bethany smiled, and Effie noticed her watching Patrick Charlemagne as he chatted with another man in their spot across the room. She didn’t respond to Effie but seemed to realize Effie was waiting and so turned toward her. Her blue eyes shimmered with concern. “But really, Effie, you going to that place unattendedand with a stranger—it’s foolhardy. Even if none of the events from a few nights ago had happened. At worst you’ll be found viciously murdered in the graveyard behind the house, and at best, if anyone finds out about it, your credibility—already on delicate ground—will be shattered.”
“I think that’s a tad extreme.” Effie stated what she wanted to believe was true, while inside she felt the nagging realization that Bethany wasn’t necessarily wrong.
“Why go, Effie? Truly, why? Stay home. Let the man poke around the old house without you. Why in heaven’s name did you say you would go?”
“For Polly.” Effie breathed her sister’s name without bothering to disguise the tremble in her voice. She met her friend’s worried eyes. “Polly needs me to defend her. She cannot prove what she saw. She can’t evensaywhat she saw, and now she’s—” Effie’s hand flew to her mouth as tears choked her words.
Bethany hooked her elbow in Effie’s and drew her closer. Effie fought back tears, breathing in a whiff of Bethany’s perfume.
“Listen to me,” Bethany pleaded. “Do you remember what happened last year with that strange man who was reported as having been seen loafing about the property? And then, just like that, he disappeared?”
Effie knew Bethany was still trying to talk her out of tomorrow’s appointment with the Englishman. Effie came to her own defense by making a reasonable deduction. “But that man was some kind of peddler or wanderer. A homeless man. It’s common that people are seen coming and going from there. The Oppermans have done nothing to lock the place up tight. It’s merely a piece of land and an old graveyard to them. They’re miserly and refuse to sell the place, so it becomes an eyesore and a draw for transients.”
“Or,” Bethany continued, “people have discredited what is really happening there. A fresh grave was dug a few years ago. Your own brother, Ezekiel, saw it with his own eyes.”
“Yes, but it was empty. Just a hole in the ground. The Oppermans had it filled in, and nothing came of it.”
“Still, are you sure you should go with that man, Effie?” Bethany lowered her voice and squeezed her arm around Effie’s.
Effie wanted to be. “Well, no, but—”
“But?” Bethany urged.
Effie met her friend’s eyes. “Polly.”
Bethany sighed as she allowed her gaze to sweep the room. “I know, Effie. I know.”
Effie knew she understood, but that didn’t change Bethany’s concern. Even so, Polly could not shield herself, and if what Mr. Anderson’s observations of what others were saying were in fact true, Effie couldn’t abide that. She would do anything for Polly ... while she was still alive to love and defend.
6
GUILTMARREDan otherwise sunshine-filled afternoon. Effie had snuck like a child once again from the James manor to avoid questions from Mother, who would have something to say about her escapade with Mr. Anderson—a married man, no less. No one in Shepherd knew Mr. Anderson, so suspicions would arise were she seen alone with him. One could hardly count the elderly assistant as a proper chaperone since he too was a stranger. And foreigners, which would only add to the mystery and be fuel to the flames of wagging tongues.
Effie made sure to pull away from the window of Mr. Anderson’s carriage so she could not be seen from the outside. He had met her at the corner of her street, and she had climbed into the carriage so quickly to stay hidden that she had tripped and almost landed in the man’s lap.
“We’re almost there, sir,” Mr. Cropper—or Gus, as he’d insisted Effie call him—announced.
Mr. Anderson sat in stony silence across from Effie. His face was unreadable, no expression of friendliness or kindness, butneither did he appear cruel or wicked. He was simply impassive, and Effie gave up trying to interpret what he might be thinking.
“Ah, here we are.” Gus was quite the opposite, she was finding. Congenial. Proper. Hospitable. Effie felt somewhat at ease, but it was only because of Gus, who now extended an arthritic hand to assist her from the carriage.
