Page 81 of Night Falls on Predicament Avenue
She stood in the shed, breathing heavily. All was still inside. Dark. Norah could barely make out the shapes before her. A clanging sounded, the collision of metal on metal. A tool falling on something?
“Hello?” Norah called out.
She saw movement, then heard what sounded like a wood board striking a plastic bucket.
Norah edged forward in the darkness, her hands moving from side to side to feel her way. There were no windows in the shed to allow the moonlight in. Even with her eyes adjusted, Norah could see only the forms of items in her way. Her shin collidedwith the dull metal edge of something. She winced, grabbing at her leg.
Just ahead, Norah thought she saw a trapdoor. It was propped open. She stepped around it, the square hole in the floor nothing but a black outline. Norah crouched down and peered into the opening. A rickety metal ladder became visible the longer she stared.
Norah hesitated, afraid to go down there. She’d run headlong after a strange woman, lost her bearings in the darkness as to where in the neighborhood they were after running most of the way through the woods. And now she was alone in a stranger’s shed with a cavernous hole in the floor—
“Help me.” The woman’s white face jumped out at Norah from the ladder below as she rose from the depths, like rising from the grave.
Norah screamed, falling backward. She fell onto the deck of a riding lawn mower. Her arms flailed wildly, pushing over a barrel that held long-handled rakes and shovels. The tools crashed to the floor, bouncing off the lawn mower and onto another one before clattering into a pile atop one another.
She struggled to pull herself up by gripping the edge of the lawn mower’s seat. Her feet braced against the second lawn mower, and in front of her she noted a third.
Three unused riding lawn mowers.
A toolshed.
Tools.
No windows.
Dread filled her. The image of the pink bandanna flashed through her memory. Naomi. Otto.
This was Otto’s shed.
The bleeding woman had led Norah to her prison in Otto’s shed.
EFFIE
May 1901
“Mr. Charlemagne!” Effie’s hand flew to her throat as the man before her leaned against the locked bedroom door. His words and his actions made no sense to her. He was an upstanding citizen in Shepherd. His family were pillars of the community. He was a good Christian man!
“Miss James,” he said, his tone apologetic, “you were never part of the equation, nor was your sister. I was disappointed when I saw your sister through the window. Reading the accounts in the papers verified it was your sister Polly who’d been on the porch that night. What a dreadful thing for her to witness.”
He continued speaking as he straightened his vest from their harried run toward Predicament Avenue. He was nonchalant, seemingly unaware of the discomfort Effie felt.
“I truly believed the suspicion would be cast on Floyd and his mother—as it has been. But you and yourMr.Anderson are an unfortunate twist of fate.” Patrick tipped his head to the side, studying her. “Truly. I expected him to a degree, but you? And Polly?”
“Mr. Charlemagne,” Effie managed. “What have you done?”
“Done?” He stared at her incredulously. “Effie, what are you implying?”
Effie gathered her wits and started toward the door that he blocked. “Please. Let me through.”
“No, no.” He wagged his finger at her. “Let’s chat a bit more. You see, I enjoy a good debacle, and this is most definitely one of them. The best laid plans must always have a contingency included because they never go as they’re supposed to. Don’t you agree?”
Effie didn’t answer. She took a step backward from the man. “Did you ... kill Isabelle Addington?” It was a bold question, but it slipped out regardless of her anxiety.
A flash in Patrick Charlemagne’s eyes confirmed her suspicions in spite of his answer. “Me? Kill Isabelle? That’s a harsh accusation.” He smiled grimly and gave a small shrug. “Your sister knows what happened. I’m sure you’ve already discussed it. Oh, that’s right. She’s been heavily medicated. Although”—he gave a wayward toss of his head—“it’s unfortunate your nurse fled Shepherd. She was working out quite well for me.”
“It wasyouin Polly’s room that night!” Awareness flooded Effie. She toyed nervously with the buttons on the cuff of her blouse.
Patrick smoothed his mustache and frowned. “I don’t like to admit to something so awful, Miss James, as it’s quite the blot on a man’s reputation.”
