The Attic on Queen Street (Tradd Street #7)

After we greeted one another, I turned to Michael. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He put his arm around Veronica beneath their shared umbrella. “I hope it’s all right. It was sort of a last-minute thing.” He squeezed his wife’s shoulders. “I thought we’d kill two birds with one stone.” He let out a forced chuckle. “Am I allowed to say that in a cemetery? Anyway, we’ve decided to put in an offer on that house on James Island, if it’s still available.”

I focused my gaze on Veronica, who smiled back at me, her face unreadable.

“That’s fabulous news,” Jayne said. “I’m so happy for you. I can’t wait to come see it.”

“As of last night, it was still available,” I said. “After I leave here, I’ll go straight to my office, look at the comps, and give you a call so we can come up with a strong offer.”

“Great,” Veronica said. She took a step forward, out of the protection of the umbrella, making me wonder if she’d forgotten Michael was holding it. “Adrienne’s over here,” she said, walking across the drive to an area of the cemetery that my father would have called “gently manicured,” which I knew was a euphemism for “being allowed to return to nature.” A term synonymous with “laziness” in his dictionary.

Veronica stopped at a rectangle of cleared grass, a white stone cross planted at the top. A mature rosebush, identifiable to me only because of the thorns, clustered at the bottom of the cross, pregnant with buds waiting for spring. A sprinkling of pebbles sat at the apex of the cross, evidence of visitors.

Veronica smiled softly. “My mother planted the rosebush and would tend it. Now that she’s not able, Lindsey and I come at least once a week to trim the grass and deadhead the roses. Adrienne preferred orchids, but they’re not compatible with this environment.”

We stood in a semicircle at the foot of the grave, a strong river breeze blowing rain and the salty scent of the marsh in our faces. I closed my eyes, focusing on the voices surrounding us, trying hard just to listen and not to allow my mind to open enough to invite anyone in accidentally.

“Hear anything?” Michael asked.

I glanced at Jayne and we both shook our heads. “No,” I said. “Give us a few more minutes.”

I concentrated, trying to separate one voice out of the jumble of words that seemed more like a tangled clump of wires. Jayne reached for my hand and I held it tightly as I clenched my eyes shut, listening closely to the indecipherable muddle of voices. The beginnings of a headache throbbed at my temples, but I continued to cling to Jayne’s hand, straining to hear Adrienne’s voice long after I knew it wasn’t there.

“Anything yet?” Michael asked with a note of impatience.

Jayne dropped my hand. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“What does that mean?” Veronica asked.

“It happens a lot,” Jayne explained. “Spirits usually hang out in places that were important to them or wherever they have unfinished business. But if you think about it, people don’t usually have strong feelings about where they’re buried, because it’s an unfamiliar place. Cemetery ghosts are usually there because they either don’t want to be dead or don’t know that they are.” She gave Veronica a gentle smile. “I’m sorry. I’d hoped Adrienne might put in an appearance here.”

Veronica appeared to melt, her face and shoulders slackening. “That’s why she’s at the house.”

“Veronica.” Michael squeezed her shoulders gently. “We’ve made our decision. We’re going to make an offer on the new house. This doesn’t change anything.”

Veronica gave me a pleading look. “But there’s still some time until we sell our house, isn’t there?”

I hesitated, remembering the other spirit in their attic, the one who’d pushed me down the stairs and sent threatening texts. The main reason why we’d come to the cemetery was so I could speak with Adrienne alone.

“Of course,” Jayne said.

I sent her a look of warning that she ignored.

“We still have time,” she continued. “My sister and I will figure out a way. Won’t we, Melanie?”

It took me a moment to form the word. “Sure.” I swallowed. Forcing a smile, I said, “The renovations are almost done, but they will hopefully give us enough time.” As if that was the only thing standing in our way of getting me back into the attic to ask questions.

“But not too much,” Michael said. “We’ve got a beautiful new home to look forward to settling into.” He kept his arm around Veronica’s shoulders, his smile more like a grimace. “Thanks for trying.” Glancing at his watch, he said, “I’ve got to get back to work. Come on, Veronica.” Looking at me, he said, “I’ll look forward to talking with you about the offer later today.”

They said their good-byes and headed back to their car, Michael’s hand on his wife’s back guiding her to the passenger door as if he was afraid she might change her mind and stay. Her pale face stared at us through the window as they passed us, making her look like a ghost.

“Are you two okay?” Jack asked.

We both nodded. “Just tired.” The rain had stopped, so I reluctantly stepped out from under Jack’s umbrella so he could close it.

Jack peered at us carefully, as if making sure. “The Vanderhorst mausoleum is just around the curve. If you two want to wait in the van with the music blaring, I’d like to go take another look while we’re here.”

“For your current project?” I wasn’t completely successful in hiding the note of hopefulness in my voice.

“Partly,” he said. “I thought I’d also see if I could find anything with Evangeline’s name that might have been missed in the public records.”

“I’m coming with you,” I said, walking toward him.

“Me, too,” Jayne said, quickly catching up to us.