The Visitor (Graveyard Queen, #4)

“This is such a beautiful garden,” I said. “So lush and cool.”


She glanced around with pride. “The place was a mess when I inherited it from an elderly uncle. I’ve put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into it over the years. Of all my business endeavors, the bed-and-breakfast holds a special place in my heart because it gave me a home and a means of providing for myself so that I didn’t have to rely on Louvenia’s good graces. I’m not a Kroll by birth, but I seem to have a knack for making money. Or maybe I’ve just been lucky.”

“You’ve certainly done a lovely job here,” I said. “But it must be difficult running Dowling Curiosities from a distance.”

“Owen’s been a godsend. But enough about me.” She gave me an encouraging smile. “You wanted to hear about Rose.”

I nodded. “You told me the other day that she had a fascination for all kinds of photography. I’m an amateur photographer myself. Do you know if any of her pictures or equipment were saved?”

“Not many, I’m afraid. After you left the shop yesterday, I went through some of my boxes of keepsakes. I did find one of her old viewers, and now that I know you’re her granddaughter, I’d like for you to have it.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“It’s the least I can do after you so kindly returned Mott’s viewer to me. I’ll bring it by the guest cottage later.”

“Thank you so much. It would mean a lot to me to have something of hers,” I said in earnest.

“Then, so you shall. It was Rose’s first stereoscope, I think. She picked it up in a secondhand shop along with a box of travel cards. That was the start of her interest in stereoscopy. We used to sit out on the front porch and daydream about visiting all those exotic places. Of course, none of us would ever stray far from home, but there was no harm in pretending.”

She sat back in her chair, letting her gaze drift over the garden. “Did you know that Rose also had an interest in the occult?”

I tried to keep my tone neutral. “As in séances? Tarot cards?”

“As in ghosts. Mott and I never told anyone for fear we would be forbidden to see her again. Rose believed the living world and the dead world existed side by side. Like a stereogram. She claimed there were times when the two worlds merged, making it possible for the dead to cross back over into our world. I think that’s the reason she was so enthralled with stereoscopy. The concept of duality fascinated her.”

“Miss Toombs—”

“Call me Neddy, won’t you? No one has called me that in years. Not since Rose passed.”

“Neddy...” The name felt strange on my tongue. “I visited Rose’s house a little while ago. Just before I came here, in fact. The room beneath the stairs... That’s where you found her, isn’t it?”

Her eyes closed briefly. “Who took you there?”

“No one. I stumbled upon it by accident. Those keys hanging from the ceiling and the numbers scribbled over the walls... Do you know what they mean?”

“I’ve wondered from time to time if those keys were still there,” Nelda murmured. “Mott was always fascinated by them, too—she used to spend hours sorting through them. Sometimes she would pull certain keys aside and Rose would make up stories about them.”

“Do you remember any of the stories?”

“That was a long time ago and so much has happened since then. Although there is one thing you might like to know.” Nelda’s fingers fluttered to her throat. “Rose used to wear some of the keys on a ribbon as a necklace. As I recall, there were three in particular that she seemed to favor. The one I remember best was very old and ornate. Quite beautiful as I recall.”

I felt the weight of the skeleton key around my own neck and tugged the ribbon from my collar. “Like this one?”

Nelda stared at the key for a moment before slowly lifting her gaze to mine. “Where did you get that?” she asked in a strained voice. “You didn’t find it in Rose’s house.”

“It was given to me years ago when I was a child. It only recently came back into my possession.”

Nelda pressed a hand to her heart. “Forgive me if I sounded abrupt, but I was just so startled to see that key, even though I know it’s not the same one. It can’t be. Rose was buried with her key.”

My fingers trembled as I tucked the ribbon back in my collar. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes. I remember seeing it around her neck at the viewing.”

“Then, you’re right. This key can’t be the same one.”

“It only looks like hers,” Nelda insisted.

Amanda Stevens's books