Page 71 of A Love Song for Ricki Wilde

Chasing after her, Ricki said, “Ezra? He’s gone; he left hours ago.”

Tuesday paused in front of Ricki, in the middle of her tiny hallway, breathing hard. “I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday. Where have you been?”

“My phone’s in my purse.” She slumped against the wall, sliding to the floor. Tuesday sat next to her. “It was the best twenty-four hours I’ve ever spent with a man. And it all just imploded with the galactic force of a dying star.”

“A dying star, huh?”

“I’ll never speak to him again.” Ricki dropped her cheek to Tuesday’s shoulder, drained. “He’s batshit. Seriously. This man believes that he’s immortal.”

Tuesday blinked. “Girl,what?”

“Forget it. What’s wrong?”

“You know I know how to spot a shady man,” said Tuesday. “I knew Ezra was hiding something. So I broke into his house yesterday.”

With a groan, Ricki drew up her knees and buried her face between them. “Tuesday, I’m hanging on to my sanity by a very thin thread. Please tell me you didn’t commit a felony.”

“I absolutely did,” she admitted, unashamed. “First of all, I was sitting at home with writer’s block and needed an activity to distract me. And second, what I’mnotabout to do is allow some slick stalker to savagely murder my bestie. Or worse.”

Ricki raised her head. “What’s worse than that?”

“The point is, if I had someone looking out for me in Hollywood, I might not have ended up in horrible situations with horrible men. You’re lucky you have me.”

“But Tuesday…”

“And just as I suspected, Ezra Walker is weird. And so is his house. He’s got a renter on the bottom, in this normal, if uninspired, apartment. He lives on the upstairs floors… but it’s all empty. Except, there’s this one creepy-as-fuck room crammed with all this old-timey furniture and technology.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Do you know what a liminal space is?”

“Yeah, it’s a space that serves as a conduit from one place to another. Tunnels, doorways, stairwells, bridges, airport terminals. Transitional spaces.”

“Exactly. Well, this room felt like a liminal space intime. The stuff in the room? It wasn’t artifacts from one particular era; it was a century’s worth. It felt like I’d stepped outside the time-space continuum. And that,” she announced grandly, “is where I found these.”

Tuesday pulled out her phone and showed Ricki photos of the sheet music.

“Music. Sheets and sheets of music, all with these crazy, impossible dates. So random.”

“Not random,” whispered Ricki, with growing horror. “They’re leap years.”

“Look at the oldest sheets. They’re fragile, like if you breathe on them, they’ll disintegrate. Where did he get this ancient paper? And read his commentary in the margins. He says that the notesdon’t add up, that he can’t make a complete song out of them. Then, on February 1 of this year, the day you saw him in the garden—he says it started to come together.

“I’ve solved the mystery,” continued Tuesday, staring Ricki directly in the eye. “Ezra Walker is a psychopath antique collector and possible time traveler. Now, we just need to find out what he wants with you.”

Ricki lolled her head back against the wall.

“Oh, Tuesday,” she said softly, “I think I already know.”

CHAPTER 17

BW + FF

February 18, 2024

WIKIPEDIA

Breeze Walker (January 3, 1900–unknown)was an American stride jazz pianist and composer. Popular during his Harlem Renaissance heyday, he recorded several hit songs from 1924–1928, but the music hasn’t survived and Walker is largely forgotten today. In 1927, he was hired to lead the house band, The Friday Knights, at famed Harlem cabaret Eden Lounge. Sometime in early 1928, Breeze Walker vanished and was never seen again. His disappearance remains unsolved.

In 1929, an electrical fire burned Eden Lounge to the ground—and with it, the only known recordings of Walker’s songs, all of which had been stored in the basement, including “Happy Sad,” “Hotcha Gotcha,” and “Midnight Jasmine.” There were no fatalities, but historians cite Eden Lounge’s demise as the symbolic end of the Jazz Age.

Walker is believed to be from South Carolina, but no historical records exist.

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