“This is bullshit. I saw light in here, and I can still smell candles. They heard us coming and took off.”
“Sonya, we were almost at the door when it went dark and the music stopped. Nobody could’ve gotten by us without us seeing them.”
“There could be a passageway. Another passageway, like for the servants.” Determined, she put the poker down to search along the walls. “The wainscoting, the—what do you call it?—chair rail. There could be a button or pull worked in.”
“I’m going to do reverse X-Files. You don’t want to believe.”
“Of course I don’t want to believe.” Her voice pitched up two full registers. “Especially at three in the morning I don’t want to believe some ghost got the urge to play the damn piano. Help me look.”
Obliging, Cleo took the next wall. “You’d rather believe someone’s sneaking around the house, opening doors, moving things, and so on, and playing the piano in the middle of the night? This person can also blow out the candles and zip into a secret passage in about two seconds?”
“At least I could give them a good smack with the poker and tell them to get the hell out of my house. So yeah, I’d rather believe that.”
She stopped, scrubbed her hands over her face. “And no, I don’t actually believe that. Before you got here today, I was torn between accepting there’s something in the house or accepting I was going crazy. Hallucinating. Maybe that brain tumor.”
“Well, I am here, and I can tell you you’re not crazy or hallucinating.” Cleo walked over, wrapped an arm around Sonya’s shoulders. “There’s more than one something in this house. And the one playing the piano’s a female.”
“The sigh. I heard it, too.”
“She’s sad.”
“I don’t think many people are happy to be dead.”
“Maybe it’s Astrid. Getting murdered on your wedding day’s bound to make you sad. The song…” Wandering to the piano, Cleo tried to pick it out. “Sort of like that, right? The basic notes. I really think I’ve heard it before, but I can’t place it.”
“And that’s the most important element in this scenario?”
“Could be a clue.” Cleo brightened. “It’s like we’re Nancy Drew and this is The Case of the Haunted Piano.”
“I’m going back to bed.”
“Good idea. The candle wax is still a little soft in these tapers,” she said as she poked a finger in one.
“You’re not the least bit freaked out.”
“Not yet. Right now I’m freaking fascinated. Hey, don’t forget your poker.”
“Ha ha. You’d’ve been glad I had it if we walked in here to an axe murderer.”
“That would be the axe murderer who takes time out to play the piano? The axe murderer who sweetly turns down the beds at night? That one?”
Sonya let out a sigh of her own and took Cleo’s hand as they walked upstairs. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m gladder of it every second. Oh, when I was falling asleep, I had this thought.”
“Don’t tell me if it involves calling in Paranormal R Us.”
“Not that. When the lawyer and the cousin come tomorrow to move those things you wanted, can I ask them to move anything else if I see something?”
“I don’t see why not. Did you see something?”
“We went through before we talked about me staying, and working in that fabulous turret space. I could look, pay more attention, with that in mind. Anyway, tomorrow.”
They paused at Cleo’s door.
“There’s a desk, a great desk. The one you use now, it’s serviceable, but you could have better. And you need some seating.”
“Got a mental list going on it, and a couple other things. Tomorrow,” Cleo repeated. “We’ve got men coming, so I need sleep so I don’t look like a hag.”
“And that happens never.”
“If you hear something and I don’t, come get me.”
“Count on it. Good—I hope—night.”
Sonya expected the same restless, patchy post–three a.m. sleep she’d experienced the night before, but she dropped off in seconds.
And woke to soft morning light.
Since she expected Cleo would sleep at least two more hours, she went to make coffee. She’d squeeze in a little work, then they’d do a kind of brunch before they went on a hunt for what Cleo could use in her studio—and anywhere else she wanted.
The idea that her friend would live there gave her such a boost. And it didn’t hurt, really, to know she hadn’t imagined things, forgotten things.
Optimism ruled the day as she sat at her desk.
Even her tablet deciding to play “Come Saturday Morning” didn’t dim it.
Just after eleven, Cleo came in.
Her hair fell in perfect corkscrews. The lids on her long, amber eyes showed just a hint of bronze. She wore snug black jeans with an ombré sweater that went from the palest of lavender to the deepest purple.
“You’re all duded up.”
“Company’s coming. Male-type company.” She struck a pose. “First impressions are first. Plus, my best friend bought me this sweater because she knows what I like.
“Working?” she added. “I can get scarce.”
“I was working until you got up.” She checked the time. “They’re not coming until after three, so I’ve got time to put myself together.”
“I hate you can look like that before putting anything together. I’ve always hated you for that, but my love’s stronger.”
On cue, the music switched to Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend.”
Cleo laughed in delight. “You’ve got like a ghost DJ. You know that’s cool.”
“I’ll shut down, and we’ll go have a girl brunch.”
“Don’t shut down yet. Let me see what you’ve got for the potter. We didn’t get around to that last night.”
“I’m running tests. I’m going to have it up and running next week.”
“That’s fast.”
“Plenty of time to work here. First, here’s what she had.”
Cleo came around, looked over Sonya’s shoulder. “Okay, I like her work. The site’s not horrible.”
“Load times are, and it didn’t work worth shit on mobile devices. You saw the mood board there. And this is what I designed, she approved, and I’m testing.”
Cleo cackled, gave Sonya a light punch on the shoulder as the website came on-screen.
“Okay, baby, that sings. Classy but approachable. Arty but down-to-earth. Strong colors, more impact. Good call on the little video. Can you enlarge it?
“Yeah, yeah. She’s got a face—great bones—the hair shows them off. I may have to sketch that.”
Sonya clicked on the Shop tab.
“And I change like her work to love. Your new format really shows it off.”
“Xena’s new pot’s Anna’s work.”
“What?” Cleo walked over to the window. “How could I not have noticed her new outfit? Love it. And Xena looks happy with it.”
“She’s got some new buds coming in.”
“So I see.”
“Enough work. I’ve been up since eight, and I’m starved.”
“I want to eat in that major dining room.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. We’ll be completely bougie. You’ve got a big house, pal, let’s use it.”
“Boy, did I need you.”
“And we’ll talk about some terms.”