“That cat,” I said. “We have no idea how it gets inside the house. I hate to think there’s a hole somewhere—who knows what else might be crawling inside?”
Amelia frowned. “I do hope you find out where it’s gaining access. Maybe when the security people come to wire the house they’ll find it.”
I was only half listening. A reflection of sunlight had refocused my attention on a corner étagère that had been covered by a dust sheet that must have come loose and slipped to the floor. It had to have been recently, because there was very little dust on the shelves or on what appeared to be hundreds of snow globes in all sizes covering all the available surfaces.
“Oh, yes, Hasell’s snow globe collection,” Amelia said as she approached. “Whenever Sumter had to travel on business, he’d bring one back for Hasell. But a lot of these places he visited only because Hasell wanted to go there. I think that sometimes he went out of his way to make a stopover just to pick up a snow globe.” She picked up one that had a giant sun wearing sunglasses floating in water tinted blue by the painted background, the word “MIAMI” spelled out in bright orange on the base. Amelia gave it a shake and we watched specks of sparkling sand erupt from the bottom like a sudden typhoon and rain on the sun, blocking its smile for a moment.
Amelia replaced the snow globe. “That’s why I wanted you to see all this. Of course you can decide to donate it all to Goodwill or some other worthy organization. Or keep it here, or even store it somewhere. I just didn’t think it was something that should be left up to somebody else. You didn’t know Button, but she entrusted you with the care of this house and everything in it.”
Jayne had gone very pale, her skin and lips appearing almost bloodless. “I need to be alone for a moment—do you mind? I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“You don’t look well at all,” Amelia said kindly, approaching with her hand outstretched.
Jayne shook her head rigorously. “No, I’m fine. You two go on. I’ll be down in just a minute.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, feeling the temperature drop again, and the familiar sensation of skin prickling on my scalp and neck.
“Yes,” she said shortly. “Just go.”
With a quick glance back at Jayne, Amelia and I climbed down both sets of stairs and stopped in the downstairs foyer. “You go on,” I told Amelia. “I’ll wait here and make sure she’s all right.”
She nodded, a delicate fold in the skin over her nose. “There’s something about her. . . .” She paused.
“She reminds you of somebody?”
Amelia shook her head. “It’s more than that. It’s not even that I think I might have met her before. There’s just something so . . . familiar.” She smiled. “Never mind.” She kissed me on both cheeks and then headed for the door. “Let me know that she’s all right.”
“I will.” We said good-bye and I stood in the dining room watching the workers painstakingly chiseling away a small patch of rotten woodwork, something that would have tempted me to whip out an ax and make firewood.
A door slammed, and I looked up the stairs to find Jayne walking quickly down them, clutching tightly to the banister as if remembering the last time she’d descended them. When she reached the bottom, a loud meow brought our attention to the landing behind her, where the cat sat, licking its chops as if it had just eaten. I looked at Jayne, eager to talk with her, but she avoided my eyes.
“Stupid cat—I think it scratched me,” she said, and walked past me, pulling up the neck of her T-shirt, but not before I saw the unmistakable red welts that could only have been caused by fingernails raking across the pale skin of her neck.
CHAPTER 18
Ilooked out the front window to see if anybody had arrived yet for the predance party, then held up a tray of canapés to Jack. He shook his head, taking a sip from his glass of Coke instead, making the ice cubes clink. I turned my back and quickly shoved a Brie and prosciutto wrap in my mouth, taking my time replacing the tray and rearranging the other appetizers on the sideboard. I glanced up, noticing that the grandfather clock had once again stopped at ten minutes past four, and the food stuck in my throat.
I took a sip of wine to make sure the food was all washed down before speaking. “Jack—didn’t you have this clock fixed?”
He turned to it with a frown. “It wasn’t broken. I just wound it and set the time and it seemed fine. Has it stopped again?”
“Yes. At the same time as the clock at the Pinckney house and in the kitchen. I’m thinking that can’t be a coincidence.”
He sent me a knowing look, then took another sip of his Coke, and I knew he was wishing it were Scotch.