by Shannon West
Her eyes started to fill with tears, and I couldn’t take that, so I patted her shoulder and decided it was time for a change of subject. I addressed myself to Rose on the other side of me. For all that she was Pearl’s sidekick, Rose was as honest as the day was long. She may give her own version of the truth from time to time, but she would never tell me an outright lie.
“So, tell me, who was it the two of you were going to try and speak to again?”
“Well,” Rose said with a tilt of her head, “we wanted to offer our condolences to Emma Mae’s ex-husband’s sister from South Carolina a little while ago, but she was talking to some people. She seems to be free now.”
“See, O ye of little faith?” my grandmother snapped at me. “C’mon, Rose.” She threaded her arm through Rose’s and then turned on her heel with an indignant sniff. “Let’s go somewhere we’re more appreciated.”
With that, they marched off, weaving their way through the crowd assembled by the buffet table before heading off into the dining room. Heaving a sigh, I shook my head. Maybe I was being too hard on my grandmother. She had just lost a—well, whatever it was Emma Mae had been to her—and they always say that grief can do funny things to people. Of course, in my grandmother’s case...
“Lovely day, isn’t it?”
Startled by the sound of the quiet voice, I spun around to find its source. Positioned in a rather grotesquely green colored easy chair sitting in front of the bay window, her back to the crowd, was Emma Mae’s niece, dressed all in black, right down to the little birdcage veil on her stylish hat. And lovely day? It was not only raining cats and dogs out of a cold, gloomy, stormy sky outside, but it was the day of her aunt’s funeral. It seemed to me an odd comment to make.
It took a minute, but I finally found my voice. “Oh, hello, Ms. Reinhart.” I’d overheard someone say earlier that Emma Mae’s great-niece was from New York City, and seeing her now in her too-fancy dress, wearing stiletto heels again, I could easily believe it. “Please accept my condolences on your loss.”
“Thank you,” the woman said. She stood up and drifted closer to me, holding out a limp hand. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe I caught your name?”
“Noah…Noah Smith.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Noah-Noah.” Was she joking? She sure didn’t act like it. Still, holding my gaze, the woman took a long sip from the glass of ice water she held. The ice in her glass shifted and a drop of the water splashed out onto her cheek. She quickly brushed it away with the back of one hand, a little shudder overtaking her. An odd reaction. It was obvious from the way this woman dressed and the way she carried herself that my initial impression of her the night before had been accurate. She definitely wasn’t from around here.
“And,” the woman continued, “you may call me Adrianna,” she said, pronouncing the initial A with an “a” like in “father.” Pretentious was my first thought, but then, I decided it kind of suited her.
“Ms. Reinhart makes me sound like I’m a thousand years-old,” she said looking at me over the rim of her glass with a tiny, self-satisfied smile. “And I’m not. Not yet, anyway.”
I laughed nervously. “Adrianna, then.” Taking a step back, I plastered on my best polite grin. “Again, I’m so sorry about your aunt. I only met her a few times, but she was very sweet.” Last night’s incident flashed through my mind and I searched desperately for something to say about her. “She could make one heck of a cherry pie.”
Adrianna dropped her eyes a degree, the slightest hint of a curl hitting the corner of her lips. “That she could,” she said, her words as faint as her smile. “Old family recipe.”
“Yes, well, I think it’s about time to round up my grandmother and my aunt and head out.”
“You know, for years I’ve heard my uh, my aunt talk about some crazy scheme or the other that she and Pearl Smith had concocted.” Seemingly oblivious to whatever excuse I was about to make to exit the conversation, Adrianna used the glass of water she held in one hand to gesture toward the other side of the room. I could have sworn I smelled—something—as her hand passed near my face. An odd, smoky smell…cigarettes, maybe? Something acrid anyway. But surely I was mistaken. My gaze followed her gesture to where Pearl and Rose were standing by the buffet table. My grandmother was gnawing on a chicken leg while another elderly woman talked excitedly, waving her arms in the air. Rose, as usual, stood by Pearl’s side, daintily picking at a deviled egg and smiling the smile of one who was clearly not listening.
I focused my attention back on Adrianna. There was something about the woman’s words that made me suspect she was not quite so oblivious to last night’s goings on as she’d pretended to be. I bit back a grimace. Damn Willie Whatley. There was no telling what he’d told Emma Mae’s great-niece about Pearl and Rose’s little adventure the night before.
All things considered, I decided it was past time I got them the hell out of there. “Well, we really should be go—”
“Oh my goodness, there you are!”
Adrianna and I jumped in unison as a wave of lavender polka dots suddenly broke between us. Craning my neck over the shoulder of the woman who’d nearly bowled us over, I saw a wide-eyed Adrianna recover her own balance, but not before another wave of ice water splashed across her chest. What in the hell?
Adrianna recoiled visibly and made a sound like a hiss. Her face turned an alarming shade of red. I thrust the napkin in my hand at her and turned to retrieve a stack more from the table.
She mumbled something under her breath and gave the woman an eat-shit-and-die look.
“Oh, I am sorry to spill that on you, hon,” the polka-dotted woman was saying as she dabbed at Adrianna’s dress. “I’m not usually so clumsy.”
Adrianna turned a breathless, angry glare on the woman and banged her glass on the arm of the easy chair just in time for the polka-dotted woman to grab her by the hand.
“You are Emma Mae’s niece aren’t you?” she asked, shaking Adrianna’s hand like she was mixing cocktails.
Adrianna yanked her hand away and I saw her eyes blaze up. To forestall whatever she might be about to say, I handed her the stack of napkins. “Here, ma’am. Use these to dry off some.”
She turned her steely gaze on me, and I saw something flicker deep in her dark chocolate eyes before she accepted the napkins and started mopping herself up.
“I was just talking to Ruth Westbrook in the kitchen,” the polka dotted woman continued blithely, and she said you were the niece, but I wasn’t sure. You’ve certainly been keeping to yourself since you arrived.”
All semblance of warmth had left Adrianna’s face as she extricated her hand from the woman’s grip and took a step back. Her eyebrows rose and for just a moment I was reminded of Maleficent just before she laid her curse on Aurora.
Another blush—this one as Adrianna noticed my regard—followed by a tightening of her thin red lips. She began to pull the now-damp material of the black dress away from her skin.
“Anyway, I just wanted to offer you my deepest condolences,” the woman said.
Adrianna dabbed at her dress, glancing up occasionally at the woman. “Yes, Ms.—uh…”
“Oh, I’m Julie,” the woman quickly supplied, “Julie Covington.”
“I’ll remember that,” Adrianna said with another of those chilling glares. She glanced around at the little crowd of onlookers who had noticed the incident and gave what I’m sure she thought was a smile. “I’m sure I’ve heard my aunt speak of you.” She deposited the damp napkins inside the empty glass on the chair with another little shudder.
“Such a dear, your aunt was. Such a dear.” Julie said, bobbing her head like a chicken. “I want you to know that if you need anything, you just say the word. We’re all here for you in this troubling time.”
Adrianna’s smile, I noticed, did not come anywhere close to her eyes. “Yes, well…”
“As a matter of fact…” Julie tossed a conspiratorial look over her shoulder and then
back at Adrianna before continuing, “I deal in antiques, so if you need any help in, um, resolving your aunt’s estate, you just let me know.” She reached into the pocket of her polka-dotted dress and pulled out a business card.
The look on Adrianna’s face mirrored my own. People never ceased to amaze me. To think that someone would approach a bereaved family member not two hours after their loved one had been laid to rest in some hare-brained attempt to forward their own agenda…
“Honey, there you are!” Pearl’s loud voice sounded from behind us a second before she charged over, Rose in tow. “I just wanted to say again what a nice funeral it was. Emma Mae would have been so proud. I especially liked those doves there at the cemetery, even if that one did shit on Mary Tucker’s blouse as it flew over.”
Seriously? “Good Lord, Grandma—”
A frowning Adrianna turned from Julie and pinned her eyes on Pearl. “Oh, it’s you again.”
“Now never you mind,” Pearl said. “It wasn’t your fault. If Whatley is going to have those things flying around folks with their good clothes on, then he needs to train them better. Or maybe give them some little paper diapers. That’d be nice.”
“Well, I…”
“But listen, honey, I couldn’t help but notice you had one of your aunt’s delicious cherry pies on the buffet table. Did you use Emma Mae’s recipe?
Adrianna shook her head. “No. The book has been…misplaced. The pie was in the freezer and one of these…ladies…who came in my house to do all this found it and put it in the oven.”
Adrianna got a calculating look on her face. “Might you happen to know where that recipe book is, by chance? I’ve been searching everywhere for it.” She caught my surprised glance and gave me a kind of smile that looked a little more like a grimace.
“The book?” She and Rose gave each other a little look. “Why no. I have no idea where it is.”
“What a shame if the book has really disappeared,” Rose said. “Because actually, that book came originally from our family. Emma Mae promised us we could have the book back before she passed, but she never got around to it, her demise coming so…unexpectedly and all.”
Adrianna tilted her head. “Yes, the stroke came on her rather suddenly, didn’t it?” To my shock, Adrianna actually giggled. She tried to pass it off as a cough, but I knew what I’d heard, and I couldn’t stop staring at her.
“Yes, very suddenly,” Gran said, and there was something strained and angry in her voice. She took a step closer to Adrianna, giving her an odd look.
“Were you there with her by chance? When she died?”
“Why yes,” Adrianna said, looking directly and challengingly at my grandmother and lifting one well-shaped eyebrow. “It just so happens that I was.” She giggled again, and this time there was no mistaking it.
A silence fell between them and they stared at each other. My grandmother nodded her head. “I see. That answers a few questions.”
“Does it?”
“Yes, but I have a few more for you.”
Oh, good Lord. Enough was enough. “Grandma…” I reached out and grabbed her by the arm. “You shouldn’t…this probably isn’t the best time for all this.”
She slipped out of my grip like a practiced escape artist. “Oh, she doesn’t mind a bit, do you, hon?”
“Actually, I do.” Adrianna’s voice was sharp and cut right through the room. Several people nearby stopped their conversations and stared in our direction. “And if you’re lying and have that recipe book after all, you need to return it to me at once. That book belongs to me now.”
“What makes you think I would have it?” Pearl fingered the necklace at her throat. Some kind of brownish stone I hadn’t noticed before. It drew Adrianna’s rapt attention too.
“Is that my, er, my aunt’s necklace? Give it to me.”
“Nosiree, not so fast. Emma Mae may have had one like it, but this one is mine. I bought it for myself just after your aunt passed. I have plenty of witnesses too. All the ladies of our book club knew about it.”
“I see,” Adrianna gritted between her teeth. She still looked as if she wanted to snatch it off my grandmother’s neck.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it? An agate. Supposed to be lucky. Folks say it’s the one gemstone everyone should carry with them at all times for protection against evil. It’s one of the oldest gemstones recorded in history.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. In fact, Rose got herself one of them too. Didn’t you, Rose?”
Rose pulled back her jacket and displayed a pin, made of the same stone as my grandmother’s. “Yes, I did.”
“So you see, it’s about time for you to be traveling on back to where you came from. There’s nothing for you here.”
“Grandma,” I said, shocked at her rude behavior. “What are you saying? Adrianna can make her own travel plans without your help.”
“Oh, she knows what I mean, don’t you, dear? Come along with me to the kitchen and we’ll talk about things. It will just take a minute,” Gran cooed, slipping her arm into Adrianna’s.
“Ms. Smith!” Adrianna’s piercing voice echoed in the tiny living room as she pulled sharply away from Pearl’s clutches. Suddenly we were the center of attention. “My great aunt left all her…things to me,” she continued, her eyes flashing, “and she advised me that I shouldn’t share them with anyone. She wanted them kept strictly in the family, and I wouldn’t want to go against her wishes. I’m looking for that book now, and I won’t leave here until I find it. So if you know where it is—if you do have the book—it would be in your best interests to give it me!”
Give it me? Did she just misspeak or did she mean to say it that way? And why did she shout those last words in that growly tone? In the shocked silence that followed, Adrianna straightened up and tossed her veil off her face. She looked around and noticed everyone staring at her.
“I-I think you’ll have to excuse me a moment…” She swept away, headed for the back porch. A little buzz followed in her wake.
“Well, fancy that,” Gran sniffed, her eyes narrowing as she watched Adrianna walk away. “In plain sight too.”
“Grandma, what are you talking about? Leave the poor woman alone. Good Lord, this is embarrassing.”
“Against Emma Mae’s wishes, huh? Give it to her, huh?” She leaned in to speak to Rose. “That one bears watching. Mark my words.”
“Grandma,” I said sharply. “Let it go. We need to get out of here.” I lowered my voice until it was near a snarl. “I’ve put up with just about enough of this. Give me that plate and go to the car. Rose, you go too, while I find Ms. Reinhart and apologize.”
Pearl’s mouth popped open like a fish and then, just as quickly, she closed it. Eyes flashing, she muttered, “C’mon Rose,” and then headed toward the front door, Rose following close behind. She stopped and turned to look at me. “Don’t get to close to that one, Noah. Be careful.”
“What?”
But she had turned around and was stalking toward the car. I waited until they left before heading out to the back in the direction I’d seen Adrianna go. The back porch, however, was vacant by the time I made it outside, except for a really large black cat with little tufts of hair coming out of its ears in points, almost like little horns. It put its ears flat when it saw me come in. There was no sign of the niece. No doubt Adrianna Reinhart had her fill for the evening—I knew I had. A part of me was tempted to continue to search for Adrianna and apologize for Pearl’s behavior, but the bigger part wanted nothing more than to go home, drink a beer, and maybe start getting ready for work the next day. More than anything, I wanted to put this stupid incident in the past where it belonged.
“Nice kitty,” I said, putting out my hand. The thing attacked me so suddenly and viciously I didn’t even see it coming. Just a flash of a paw and my hand was slashed and dripping blood on the floor. I grabbed for a napkin to put over it and shook my head, heading back inside the house.
Ch
apter Three
One of my ex-roommates in college had been a boy named Roscoe. He was a quiet, studious boy, but I never was able to really warm up to old Roscoe. He was from south Georgia and was a Math major. That alone would have made his brain diametrically opposed to mine, but to say Roscoe was an odd boy really didn’t paint the full picture. He had scheduled himself for early classes, and he got up way before first light and got ready in the dark so as not to wake me. It was thoughtful, if totally unnecessary, because as I had repeatedly told him, I was a heavy sleeper and probably wouldn’t have woke up if a freight train had rolled through our room in the mornings. But he persisted.
Once he got ready, if he was a little early, he would sit on the side of his bed and eat some of those little muffins out of a bag until time to go to class. He wouldn’t eat cafeteria food—not that I blamed him—because he claimed it contained saltpeter the university system had put in all our food to cut down on teen pregnancy.
Instead he bought his own food, non-perishable stuff, including those little bags of muffins. And the whole time he sat there, waiting to go to class, he stared at me while I slept. Just stared, not two feet away from my head in that tiny room, his gaze never wavering from my face.
I moved out after the first semester, because I just couldn’t take the creepiness anymore.
Now, lying in bed, attempting to make up for the lack of sleep I’d suffered a couple of nights before, I had that old feeling of being watched.
I was only half awake, not wanting to leave the blissful cocoon of blankets that covered me. It was then I heard the gentle, almost imperceptible sound of breathing. I raised up from my soft pillow and poked my head out from under the covers.