I pushed my plate away, my appetite having vanished. “It almost sounds like things a person might be buried with.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” she said, her expression making it obvious that this idea wasn’t new. With forced lightness, she continued. “It could have been a family burial ground associated with a house that stood behind yours and that burned in the fire, but the good news is that we haven’t found any human bones. Although we did find a nearly intact skeleton of a small dog—but lots of people bury their dogs in the backyard, so that’s not so surprising. As to the possibility of a human grave site, when the property lines were redrawn after the Vanderhorsts acquired the property behind theirs following the fire, they might have moved the body to a cemetery but left behind any items that might have been placed in a coffin at burial.”
I regarded her with curiosity. “The body? So there was a grave?”
“Well, assuming it is a grave site—and we don’t know for sure—it looks as if there was only the single one.”
She’d grabbed a napkin and was in the process of shredding it into tiny pieces.
“Was there anything else that Sophie didn’t want to tell me yet?”
Meghan’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Do you promise not to tell her how you know?”
“She’ll know whether I tell her or not, but let’s not forget it’s my house we’re discussing.”
“Right,” she said, nodding once. “So, we also found a headstone.”
An icy rivulet of fear traced the length of my spine, making me shiver. I pulled my sweater tighter. “A headstone?”
“Yeah. Marble. Which is the worst material, just about, for headstones in this climate. The lettering on it is so shallow that it’s unreadable except for part of the first name. We think it starts with the letter E but the second letter is unclear—might be an M, or a U, or an N. It’s really anybody’s guess.”
A memory of footprints in the snow flashed through my head. Another icy shiver ran through me. “?‘E,’?” I repeated. “Was there anything else?”
She scratched her chin, then lifted her finger. “Oh, and a large collection of buttons.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Like how large? Tens? One hundred?”
“I’d say hundreds. And since everything else appeared to be Victorian, I immediately thought they might have been from—”
“A charm string,” I finished for her.
She smiled. “Exactly. Have you seen one before?”
“Not a complete one. But I know what they are.”
Meghan looked at her watch and then stood. “I’m sorry—I’ve got to get to class. It was nice seeing you. And if there’s anything else . . .” She gave me a worried look.
“Don’t worry—I won’t get you in trouble. But I will talk with Sophie. I’m curious as to whom all the stuff belonged to.”
“Me, too. We haven’t gotten that far into the research yet.” She smiled. “I’ll see you later.” She took a few steps and then abruptly turned around. “I’ve been meaning to ask—was that Beau Ryan at your house the other night? I was riding my bike down Tradd Street and I could have sworn I saw him leaving your house.”
I looked at her with surprise. “Yes, actually. It was. How do you know Beau?”
She didn’t answer right away. Finally, she said, “We dated for a few months last year. I even went to visit his family in New Orleans during a week off from school.”
“Must have been serious, then.”
Meghan shrugged. “He’s a great guy, and I really liked him. It’s just . . .” She stopped.
I kept silent, willing her to go on.
“It’s just, his family is sort of . . . strange. Don’t get me wrong. His grandparents were warm and welcoming, and they have this beautiful Italianate Revival house in the Garden District, on Prytania. It’s been in Beau’s family since the early eighteen forties. Absolutely gorgeous and filled with old family antiques.”
“Sounds lovely—except for the ‘old’ part,” I said lightly, but I was already bracing for what she was about to say.
“Oh, it is. But . . .” She bit her lip. “It had very odd vibes, you know? Like your house on Tradd. But . . . darker. Beau said I was free to explore—I mean, who could resist all that gorgeous old house with all of its nooks and crannies?”
I almost raised my hand, but didn’t want to interrupt her.
“But there were two doors that were kept locked, and when I asked Beau about them, he just said his grandmother kept those rooms locked because they were crammed with overflow from the attic. Which I understand, but why lock the doors?”
“Well, they certainly wouldn’t be the first elderly eccentric couple living in a spooky old house, would they?” I said, even managing a little laugh.
“No, I suppose not. They also own an antique store in the Quarter.” She swallowed. “But I don’t think antiques is all they sell there.”
My eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean?”
“I shouldn’t be telling you all this. I’m not a gossiping kind of person, but when I saw you with Beau . . .”
I made a motion of zipping my lips. “I promise you that this stays with me. Although I might share it with Jack,” I added hastily. “But he can also be trusted.”
She seemed to consider this for a moment before continuing. “So I don’t think it’s drugs or weapons, if that’s what you’re wondering. No evidence of that, but if you met Mr. and Mrs. Ryan you’d understand. But that back room, well, lots of weird stuff there. Tons and tons of old books and other things I couldn’t identify. I was only in there once because Beau let me in, but it was also kept locked all the time. And lots of people would come in the main entrance and walk straight to the back, and I don’t think they were there to shop for antiques.”
I nodded, remembering what Beau had said about his grandmother’s Frozen Charlotte collection. “Beau said he does their website and he has some of the stuff on there.”