Page 19 of Night Falls on Predicament Avenue
Was Isabelle Addington the woman Polly had seen? Effie clapped her palm over her mouth and stumbled from the room, through the entryway, and out the front door. She gulped for fresh air, ignoring the open carriage that wheeled by and the curious looks from its occupants. She held on to the doorframe to steady herself. Was it Isabelle Addington—Mr. Anderson’s wife—or not? This was the evidence that had been hidden. Sloppily hidden and sloppily overlooked.
It validated Polly’s spiral into petrified silence.
It vindicated Effie’s need to prove her sister right.
And it only worsened the truth.
Death had indeed come to 322 Predicament Avenue.
Cold, Dead, But Never Buried
Podcast hosted by Sebastian Blaine
ISASOULseduced into murder? Does it crave death like a child after sweets? Does it come upona soul like a demon taking over the body and senses? Or perhaps man is just that innately evil, justas Cain was toward his brother, Abel, and we are all but a footstep away from committing the dastardly deedourselves.
This month we’ll be exploring the 1901 unsolvedmystery of the death of Isabelle Addington at 322 PredicamentAvenue. We’ll investigate who she was, or who sheis thought to have been. We’ll take the listenerwith us as we journey to her place of death.We’ll question if Isabelle still remains there, crying out for resolution. We’ll also investigate the origins of Shepherd,Iowa, a little town nestled in the Midwest. A townof peace, shattered by the brutal stealing of life—twice—with no resolution, neither then nor now.
7
NORAH
Present Day
NORAHTHUMBEDthe pause button on her phone, ceasing the accented voice of Sebastian Blaine and his podcast. Her hand trembled as she gripped the device. The man of the hour was loafing on the back porch overlooking the old gravestones, coffee mug in hand, bare feet propped on another porch chair. His dark curls were askew, his glasses framing his rugged features, and for a brief moment Norah reconsidered. Then she remembered Naomi.
Norah shoved the screen door open, stepping onto the porch. Sebastian looked up at her lazily with a sideways grin that both attracted and irritated her further.
“Good mornin’.”
“What’s this?” Norah held out her phone for Sebastian to see. On the screen was the podcast’s episode art.
An eyebrow lifted. “My podcast?”
Norah sucked in an anxious breath. “My sister’s murder.” It was an accusation without question.
Sebastian dropped his feet from their perch on the chair and leaned forward. “I never mentioned your sister.”
“You said ‘twice.’” Norah waved her phone in the air.
“Twice?”
Was he really that obtuse? “The brutal stealing of life—twice.” Norah parroted the podcast episode that had been posted earlier that morning.
“Aye, so there’s been murders here in Shepherd. But I didn’t mention your sister’s name.”
“It won’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out.” Norah could hear the bite in her words. Like a cornered and wounded animal snapping at someone whose intentions they couldn’t predict. That was Sebastian Blaine. His friendly nature, his warm expressions—they were all a cover to be the perfect patron of her B and B so he could weasel his way in and create a sensational series of crime podcasts. Norah continued, trying to temper her words but not succeeding. Her voice quavered with frustration and not a little anxiety. “The stories of Isabelle Addington are one thing, but my sister’s murder ismylife too. My story.”
“It’s public information.” Sebastian’s answer was far from comforting.
Norah jammed her phone into the pocket of her jeans, trying to calm the shaking of her hands. He didn’t know—he couldn’t know—what it was like to have a sister brutally taken from you. To not know who was safe and who wasn’t. To have a killer never identified. To never be able to fully grieve the tragic loss of her twin, let alone find closure in a case that had grown so cold, there was a good chance it would never get solved.
“Listen...” Sebastian patted the empty chair in invitation for Norah to be seated.
She ignored it. She didn’t want to be nearer to him.
Sebastian accepted her refusal, palmed his coffee mug, andcleared his throat. “I promise, I’m not plannin’ on investigatin’ your sister’s murder. I’m here to focus on the story of Isabelle Addington, her history an’ what happened to her.”
“Then why allude to more than one murder in Shepherd?”
