Page 36 of Night Falls on Predicament Avenue
“No one knows.” Norah twisted to look out the screen door. “There’s no headstone or marker with her name on it. No record of her burial in the town’s other cemeteries either.”
“Let’s go look anyway.” Sebastian extended his hand toward her. His eyes were gentle, pools of chocolate-brown, and Norah wished she could trust them. Trust that he was the sort of person who could harbor her, quench her fears, provide answers. Right now, he was simply diverting her attention away from Naomi. She knew that. Knew that he was reading the shivering in her body, the nervous wobble in her voice.
Yes. Isabelle Addington. A diversion.
Anything to get her mind off Naomi’s neon-yellow library card and the vivid memory of the woman’s ethereal form slipping out her bedroom door and whisking away into the night as though beckoning Norah from beyond the grave.
Find us. Find usboth.
It was Isabelle who had beseeched Norah. Two unsolved murders of two innocent women. If she couldn’t help Naomi, perhaps she could help Isabelle and then finally the woman could rest in peace.
And leave 322 Predicament Avenue alone.
13
EFFIE
May 1901
THEDOOROPENED, and Effie all but pushed past a stunned Gus. “Please. Is Anderson here?Mr.Anderson, I mean.” Effie was quick to formalize his name, for it was only in her mind that she’d been casual toward him.
Gus opened his mouth to answer, but the elderly man was interrupted by his employer ducking into the entryway. Concern creased his face. “Effie?”
The use of her first name surprised her. Perhaps murder and shock were enough to put aside such formalities.
Effie had first gone to the boardinghouse to find Anderson. He hadn’t been there. She’d been redirected by a far too inquisitive boardinghouse owner that Mr. Anderson and his assistant had checked out of the boardinghouse and rented a small house on 10th Street—the one owned by the Charlemagnes. Of course. The Charlemagnes owned a lot of property, some rentals, somefor sale, some industrial. They made their money that way. But for Anderson to rent a house meant he intended to stay for a length of time
“Please, I need your assistance.” Effie looked between the two men.
“I’ll put the tea on,” Gus stated in a no-nonsense fashion, then shuffled away.
“Are you all right?” Anderson’s brows drew together as he eyed Effie. She knew he was taking in the marks on her neck that were impossible to hide. Bruises that extended the width of fingers.
“No. I am not all right. I need your help.” Effie went ahead of him into a small sitting room. When she took a chair, and Anderson the chair opposite her, she made efficient work of informing him what had happened the night before.
“And you’re here? Alone? Have you gone mad?” The concern in the man’s voice thickened his accent and deepened the creases beside his eyes. “No escort? Where is your father? Should you even be up from your bed?”
Effie had not anticipated the barrage of questions, nor the worry that laced the man’s features. She toyed with the strings of her purse that rested in her lap. “My father is at the police station insisting that they grant us a security guard. But it wasn’t me the intruder was after—it was Polly!” Effie’s voice was scratchy, her throat sore, her body aching from the attack, but she had no intention of admitting that to anyone. “My mother will not leave Polly’s side and rightfully so. The night nurse has agreed to stay on to assist, but Polly is still unresponsive. I can no longer sit back and do nothing. My sister has been targeted for what she saw. The paper has done nothing to provide any help in protecting her. Please. I need your assistance.”
“To accomplish what?” Anderson was guarded, and yet he swept his gaze over her again as if to convince himself she was indeed all right.
“Go with me to Predicament Avenue. To see if anything’s been missed. More clues. Who is behind all this? I must know. Imustprotect Polly!” Her words ended in a whimper, and for a moment Effie thought Anderson was going to move to sit beside her. He started forward and then, as was proper and necessary, leaned away from her.
His eyes darkened. “Miss James—”
“Effie.”
“Effie,” he continued, “my wife is dead. This is only the beginning, and until the culprit is caught, danger abounds. I made an error taking you there the first time. An error of judgment as to your reputation, and an error of judgment regarding your safety. Forgive my bluntness, but you added little to what we discovered. Had you not been there, I still would have found the remains of the violence.”
Effie’s head snapped up to frown at him. “I was the one who indicated we must look in the kitchen, which is where the knife was found. If not for me, the weapon that inflicted all the violence would still be behind the stove and out of sight. And if he comes after Polly, she can’t...” Effie’s voice caught as tears threatened to surface. “Please, I dare not go back there alone. I know that doing so would be foolish. But with you—”
“No.” Anderson shook his head.
“But—”
“There are other ways to find answers.” He shifted in his chair. “Ways I’m already exploring on my own, no thanks to the police who seem to find it an embarrassment that we discovered what they did not at Predicament Avenue.” Anderson paused, then added, “However, you are welcome to accompany me to the Opperman home.”
“The Oppermans?” Effie’s startled exclamation took him aback.
