Page 77 of Night Falls on Predicament Avenue
A thump in the kitchen caused Norah to stop. She strained to hear. “Sebastian?” she called softly.
There was no answer, just the rhythmic ticking of the clock.
She needed a glass of water. Or maybe she’d make herself a cup of orange-spice tea.
The kitchen was dark save for the small light above the stove. She must have left it on earlier in the afternoon when she’d made a sandwich for lunch. Norah made quick time of filling a mug with water and popping it into the microwave. She punched the appropriate buttons and then stood in front of it, staring through the glass door as the mug rotated slowly.
She pondered everything she’d read in the past few hours.
Isabelle Addington. A moot point, and not much else needed there considering the Millers hadn’t bothered to file their frivolous lawsuit against her. She’d send a sympathy card and flowers to Mrs. Miller if Rebecca thought it’d be well received and not seem antagonistic.
Naomi. Everything she’d read had only brought back memories of what she already knew, except for the suspect list that included the two brothers, LeRoy, and Mike Dover.
Dover... She had refrained from calling him for obvious reasons. What if—?
Another thud made Norah jerk her head to the right and toward the door. Was something outside on the porch? A raccoon or possum? Wouldn’t be the first time. Still, Norah was unnerved as she reached up and jammed the end button on the microwave.
Click.
What the heck was that?
Norah spun around and peered into the dark corners of the room. If Isabelle Addington came rushing at her on all fours, her head twisting around and her black hair dangling beside her face, Norah would scream so loud that the entire house would crash down.
But there was no ghoulish form of a possessed dead woman.
Nothing.
Then she heard a creak. It seemed to come from the front of the house. Floorboards in the entryway? Norah tiptoed in that direction, the light from the dining room casting a much friendlier glow than the darker kitchen to her back. She peered to the right and down the hall toward her bedroom.
Nothing.
Halfway up the stairs to the second floor.
Nothing.
Norah held her breath, trying to listen for more sounds of disturbance. Sounds that were foreign to what was typical of 322 Predicament Avenue at night.
All was silent.
She let out her breath.
Good. Teatime.
Norah turned to go back into the kitchen.
A woman stood behind her, eyes wide and horrified, her hair stringy and short, hanging down on either side of her face. She was breathing through her mouth, short gasping breaths. She held up her hands, the tips of her fingers bloody, the nails half ripped off.
Norah opened her mouth to scream, but the sound that squeezed through was strangled. She desperately tried to suck in air and failed. Norah gaped in terror at the ghoulish woman in front of her. And when the woman spoke, her words came out in a puff of breath that smelled musty and swept across Norah’s face.
“Help me.”
28
EFFIE
May 1901
HERVOICEWASCOMINGBACKstronger now. Another night’s rest had lessened the strain on her vocal cords and eased the soreness in her throat. She’d sat with Polly this morning, but she had been antsy and preoccupied. She knew today was the day the men had planned to confront the Oppermans. Effie’s claims about the nurse had also been reinforced when the nurse failed to return to the James Manor and had disappeared. A witness had seen her boarding a train, Constable Talbot stated. The fact Polly was reviving even further reinforced Effie’s assertions. They had gently questioned Polly again about the night in question. But Polly’s answers were unchanged from her original, stilted ones the night they’d been to Predicament Avenue. There had been a man attacking a woman, but she hadn’t seen enough to identify him.
