Page 8 of Night Falls on Predicament Avenue
“Enough.” Her father’s hand on Effie’s arm stilled her. She shot her father a questioning look. What was to be secretive about Polly’s condition? Everyone knew the truth about Polly, and now? The events of last night had been too much for her. They had paralyzed Polly, stolen her words, shocked her into a weakened stupor...
Effie’s eyes burned with tears. No one, not even her own father, could comprehend why she’d followed Polly last night, and why now she was growing desperate for the others to understand the terror they had been through.
“Mr. Fletcher, are you certain you saw nothing—?” Effie’s words broke off as Rand Fletcher stifled a cough.
“Really, I’ve no more to do with this.” Mr. Fletcher’s expression toward Effie was a mixture of apology and concern. “I will leave you to it,” he said to the constable. “Pardon me.” Mr. Fletcher pushed past Effie, nodding at the two women who still waited with eagerness to clean up the bloody mess left behind by the alleged murder.
Constable Talbot held up a hand toward them. “Ladies, I appreciate the offer, but I won’t be needing your services today.”
Disappointment creased their faces. Mrs. Jarvis tried oncemore. “Might we not come inside and help make sure you didn’t miss anything?”
“Nothing to see, ladies. Please move along now.” Mr. Ambrose waved them off, also dismissing another five onlookers who’d gathered beside them. “There’s no murder. Nothing inside to see that you probably haven’t seen already.”
Murmurs rippled among the folks as they withdrew. Effie cast urgent looks between the men before her. Her brow furrowed with growing horror. “Wedidhear a woman scream.” Effie ignored the squeeze of her father’s hand on her arm. She stiffened, insisting that she be heard. “My sister saw something. Something awful right there in the kitchen.” Effie waved her arm at the house.
“Didyousee it?” the constable asked. “The assumption of murder is quite a leap.”
Effie was brought up short. “Well, no, but I—”
“And your sister isn’t in any condition to speak of what she saw?” The constable’s eyes shifted to Effie’s father.
“My daughter is not well.”
Not well?Effie reared back to stare at her father. Not well was an understatement to say the least. Polly was so terrified that she’d been whimpering while curled up like an infant in her bed! Any expression of energy and strength had been drained from Polly, like someone had opened a valve and released her spirit, leaving only her soul to remain.
This was far sooner than Effie had wanted. Far sooner than she thought it would happen. The horror of what Polly had witnessed had snatched from Polly the last remnants of her will to continue marking off the dreams of her wish list. The things she wanted to do before ... well, 322 Predicament Avenue had been one of Polly’s wishes. Effie had accompanied her because it was what a loyal sister did when the other one was dying.
The men stared at Effie. Father cleared his throat. Mr. Ambrose crossed his arms over his chest.
Constable Talbot chose to dismiss Effie’s insistence and instead address her father. “There’s no evidence of anything out of the ordinary here. I appreciate your willingness to help us by coming here.” He turned to address Effie. “And I appreciate that you brought it to our attention. While I can’t say what exactly your sister saw or you heard, Miss James”—he managed a thin smile, likely meant to appease her—“it’s apparent it wasn’t a murder. Thank the Lord for that.”
“Yes,” Mr. Ambrose agreed.
Effie and her father bid the men goodbye and slipped through the thinning crowd back toward their carriage. The driver assisted them inside and closed the door. With a jerk, the carriage started moving forward, the horse’s shoes clopping along the cobblestone street.
Effie eyed her father, who stared out the side window, tapping his finger against his bearded chin. He was agitated, that much was certain. His gaze seemed to linger on the graveyard behind the house on Predicament Avenue, and then it shifted to his gloved hands.
“I’m sorry, Father.” Effie said what she knew her father expected and preferred she’d say.
Her father turned his dark eyes on her, the seriousness in them spearing her. An uninterpretable expression passed over his face, and then his jaw clenched. He ran his hand over his peppery-gray beard. “I didn’t expect this from you, Euphemia.” Carlton James’s direct conclusion landed squarely on Effie’s shoulders. “You are supposed to look after your sister, not follow her in her shenanigans.”
He had a point, but then how did one tell Polly no? Polly, who was the pride and joy of the James family. The effervescent and delightful Polly who was the thread that wove the entire family together into a cohesive unit.
Carlton cleared his throat. “She wasn’t well to begin with.”
“I know.” Effie’s admission sounded small to her own ears.
“And this—whatever this was—only toppled the last of her strength and reasoning.”
Effie didn’t answer. Her father wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t understand either. He didn’t grasp how Polly had pleaded with Effie to go to Predicament Avenue, just like they had whispered and conspired to do when they were younger. Yet they’d never been brave enough, most assuredly not Effie. Effie had always told Polly it was foolhardy and inappropriate. But last night? The sunken paleness in Polly’s expression spoke louder than her pleas. Time was oh so limited.
“And to report amurder?” Carlton’s disapproval was clear. “With no evidence of—”
“Therewasevidence!” Effie interrupted, shifting in her seat in the carriage. “Polly saw—”
“What?” Carlton frowned. A father’s censure. “She cannot tell us now, can she? Did she tell you? Did she detail for you what she saw?”
“I heard the woman scream, Father.” Effie’s insistence didn’t carry with it the conviction she felt. The fact was, no matter what Polly had seen, and no matter what she had heard, as of now the house on Predicament Avenue was empty. There was no corpse whose blood had soaked into the floorboards. There was no mangled woman lying exposed to confirm Effie’s story. There was no crime, no murder, nothing but the empty shell of 322 Predicament Avenue. “A woman was murdered, I know this.” Effie’s statement hung in the air between them.
