Page 5 of Night Falls on Predicament Avenue
“What do you mean?” Norah frowned. She knew she should understand what he was talking about and yet she was unable to put her thoughts in order.
“Well, I understand the Millers are from Washington State. She will need to determine if she wants the body returned to their home, or perhaps cremation would be a possibility. It would make for easier transport, and I—”
Norah held up her hand. “You’ll have to take that up with her.”
“I realize that, but someone will need to be her go-between for the time being.” Mr. Nielson’s expression had a look of expectation.
Her go-between?Norah bit back a whimper. Her nerves were frayed to the point she wanted to retreat to her room and scream into her pillow. “I-I’ll see if I can help her contact their children,” Norah offered reluctantly.
“They have children?” Mr. Nielson’s brows rose.
“I don’t know. I assumed that...” Norah drew in a shuddering breath to collect herself. “I’ll look into it.”
“Good.” Mr. Nielson eyed her. “Will you be all right, Norah?”
She offered him a pitiful sniff and a nod. That he didn’t believe her was obvious.
“If you called your parents, you would—”
“No.” Norah pinched her lips together and shook her head. Her parents had taken their first vacation since Naomi’s murder. They were somewhere in Sweden, and she wasn’t going to interrupt their time in Europe with news of a death unrelated to them. They had gone reluctantly as it was. She might be thirty-one, but her parents knew Norah’s anxieties in the not-so-distant past had kept her locked away in their house, terrified of life and of people. Therapy and counseling and medical assistance had finally helped her back onto her feet and onto a good path, and Norah wasn’t about to give them a reason to think she might be backsliding.
Even if she was.
A shrill cry from the newly widowed Mrs. Miller echoed through the thin walls of the house. “It was there! The apparition! At the end of the bed ... juststaringat us with those gaping holes for eyes!” Her wail clipped off. There were murmurs as someone apparently tried to calm her.
Norah and Mr. Nielson exchanged a look.
“Is she talking about...?” Mr. Nielson let his sentence hang.
Norah shuddered. Apparitions. Spirits. Ghosts. Call them what you will, but it was no secret that 322 Predicament Avenue had long been rumored to be haunted.
Norah bit her lip and shook her head at the mortician, refusing to engage in further conversation about the ghost of Shepherd, Iowa’s first murder victim back in 1901: Isabelle Addington.
It was why Sebastian Blaine was here. And God help him if he tried to link Isabelle’s vintage murder to Naomi’s current unsolved case. Others had tried to build a narrative and a mystery around 322 Predicament Avenue’s bad luck with violent death.
Norah refused to entertain such an idea. The fascinationwith cold cases, both historical and recent past, was something she would never understand. Every murder left behind silent victims. Families that would never be what they had once been.
A police detective made his way down the flight of stairs behind where Norah and Mr. Nielson stood in the front entryway of the house. Mr. Nielson gave Norah a reassuring grimace and took his leave.
She mustered the willpower to pivot where she stood and face the detective.
“Detective Dover.” He flashed his identification out of habit, even though Norah had known him since high school. Back then they’d just called him Dover. “Sorry,” he added sheepishly, “Habit.”
Norah gave a silent nod.
“It was nice of you to step in for Mrs. Miller and assist Mr. Nielson.”
She hadn’t been assisting the mortician. His assistant had assisted. Norah had hidden in the corner, cowering. But she wasn’t about to admit that to Dover. Nor was she going to admit it in front of Sebastian Blaine, who approached them from the side drawing room as if he owned the place. He gripped a mug of steaming coffee in his hand—had he helped himself to brewing it in the kitchen? His glasses were now straight on his face, unlike earlier during the havoc. His jaw was covered in a midnight shadow. He was remarkably, annoyingly calm.
“You discovered Mr. Miller?” Dover questioned Sebastian, who took a sip of coffee and nodded.
“Actually,” he corrected, “Mrs. Miller discovered her husband. I came to help since my room is directly across the hall.”
“Right.” Dover nodded, then directed his attention to Norah. “And you were in the room as well?”
“Yes,” Norah replied, wrapping her arms tightly around herself and praying for this all to be over soon.
Dover glanced up the stairs as Mrs. Miller wailed again. He winced and cleared his throat uncomfortably before continuing. “Well, the good news is Mr. Miller’s death seems to be from natural causes. There should be no reason for an autopsy. He had a history of heart issues.”
