I was rewarded with a half grin. Reassured that she’d follow, I walked back into the foyer, my heels echoing in the empty house. A sound like fluttering wings came from the room opposite the parlor. I turned my head in time to see a flash of white passing through the thick plaster wall, accompanied by the soft patter of small bare feet.
An icy cold chill began to wrap its way around me as I listened to the sound of approaching feet, heavier than the first set, and definitely wearing shoes. My ears tingled even before I felt the hands gripping my shoulders and shoving me toward the door. I tilted my head to escape from what I knew was coming next—a cold, hollow voice whispering into my ear. The words were soft and feminine, but not enough to make them any less frightening. Frigid air scraped across the side of my head, punctuating each word as if to convince me that the voice wasn’t in my imagination. Go. Away.
I began singing ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” as loudly as I could, my proven remedy to drown out voices I didn’t want to hear. It was something I’d learned as a child to escape the disembodied voices and still proved useful—but only when I’d prepared myself. And I hadn’t. My mother had been in this house multiple times to visit her friend Button Pinckney before she died, and I’d thought she would have mentioned a few extraneous souls.
Sophie came from the drawing room, staring at me with wide eyes as I began to back out of the front door. My progress was suddenly halted when I bumped into Jayne.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
The temperature in the room had returned to normal, yet I had the sensation I’d had the day in my office when I met Jayne. That whatever it was was still there, but someone—or something—was blocking me from seeing it.
“Yes,” I said, forcing a smile. “Everything is fine. I sometimes like to check out the acoustics in these old houses for fun.” I faced Sophie. “Did somebody leave a window open or crank the AC?”
I noticed Sophie’s expression. “You must be coming down with something. I don’t think the house has central air, and the only unit I saw from outside was in an upstairs window.”
I faked a cough. “Could be.”
“Does it get as hot here as it does in Birmingham?” Jayne asked, her words stiffened by her clenched jaw. “I mean, would central air be required for resale?”
Both Sophie and I stared at her for a moment, trying to see if she might be joking. Finally, I said, “It will really depend—you can either have the work done or reduce the price accordingly. Either way, summer in Charleston is like living in a toaster stuck on high. Air-conditioning is generally not considered optional.”
I left the front door open, telling myself it was with hopes of crisp, fresh air instead of giving me the option of a quick exit.
Jayne still had her arms crossed, but she was looking at me with an amused expression. “ABBA, huh?”
“You like them?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t say that. They were a little before my time. I saw the movie Mamma Mia, though, so I’m familiar with their music.”
Sophie began walking toward the staircase. “You didn’t hear this from me, but Melanie’s a little obsessed. She denies it, but I’m pretty sure she has a white leather fringe jumpsuit in her closet.”
I joined Sophie at the staircase, but Jayne remained where she was, her gaze focused at the landing where the stairs took a turn and disappeared from sight. I followed her gaze, then stopped. The fat cat with the missing eye sat on the landing staring disinterestedly down at us. “How’d that get in here?” Jayne asked.
“Must have sneaked in while we were talking. I’ll send someone from the office who likes cats to come get it to see if it has a tag.”
“And if it belonged to Button Pinckney?”
“I guess it will go to a shelter.”
“What cat?” Sophie asked.
“That one,” I said, pointing to the empty spot where the cat had been. “Well, he or she was here a moment ago. It’s rather chubby, and is missing an eye. I don’t know how easy it will be to find it a home, so let’s hope it doesn’t belong to the house.”
I waited at the doorway to the parlor, hoping Jayne would take the hint, but she remained where she stood, her feet planted like a recalcitrant toddler. “There’s nothing to worry about,” I reassured her. “I promise the cat will be taken care of.”
She looked at me for a moment before stiffly nodding. Slowly, she moved inside, her gaze never leaving the top of the stairs. The skin on the back of my neck assured me that we weren’t alone in the house, yet the feeling of being barred from seeing anything extrasensory remained.
The stench of decay and a sense of foreboding permeated the space, brightened only by the extraordinary light flooding in from the front windows. It would be even brighter once they were cleaned, but even now I could see how beautiful this house had once been. “The lawyer told me that Miss Pinckney never left her room on the second floor for the last few years of her life. She had a housekeeper and nurse who took care of her. That might explain the neglect of the rest of the house.”