Chapter 19 #2
“Speaking of which,” Beau said, “we need to get going.”
Felicity handed her game controller to me and the other one back to Sarah. “Here—you can take my place and finish beating Sarah.”
“Thanks,” I said, fairly sure that her motivation was to keep it away from Henry, confirming my suspicion that we were going to be friends.
As soon as they left, I handed the controller to Sarah. “Can you put this thing on pause? I don’t think I can concentrate, and I’d hate to make Felicity lose.”
Henry left shortly afterward, with a mumbled comment that he was headed to the store to fix whatever mess Camille had probably left for him to deal with.
Camille’s smile didn’t fade as she turned to me.
“Can I get you a sandwich or something? Mimi said you need to have food in your stomach before you take your pills, and it’s about time for your next dose. ”
“Yes, I’d appreciate that. Thank you. And anything you want to make is fine with me.”
“I’ll help,” Jolene announced as she followed Camille toward the kitchen. “And she really will eat anything you put in front of her. I think she has a hollow leg, because she has the appetite of a linebacker but the figure of a movie star.”
The sound of the women laughing faded as they moved toward the back of the house.
Sarah stood and unplugged the controllers from the game console before wrapping them together with the cords and stuffing them under the sofa.
“Is that necessary?” I asked.
She gave me the look of disappointment that Melanie would give me when I kicked my shoes under my bed or hung up a coat facing the wrong way. “Seriously? Don’t you think Henry’s kinda old to be hogging the game controllers?”
“Yes, but it’s not my house, so I’m not making the rules. And you should be calling him Mr. LeBlanc.”
“I tried, but he kept telling me to call him Henry, and I gave in so he’d stop talking.
He’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, on top of being irritating.
I mean, he thinks Elvis faked his death, and he keeps using the word ‘irregardless.’ Oh, and his favorite TV show is Beavis and Butt-Head.
” She lifted a corner of the sofa cushion, under which a collection of empty candy wrappers had been assembled. “These are all his, by the way.”
She let the cushion fall, then plopped down on the sofa, jostling my leg and making me wince.
“Sorry. I keep forgetting you’ve got a broken ankle.
” She gently patted the bandaged appendage.
“And he talks way too much. He kept asking Felicity if she could talk to dead people—probably because he knows that Beau can—and if she ever communicated with her mom and dad. It was obvious he was upsetting her, but he kept at it until I asked Felicity what brand tampons she used for heavy-flow days and if she had menstrual cramps. That shut him up right away.”
“Very smart. Just out of curiosity, though, what did Felicity say about seeing dead people?”
“She said she didn’t. And I believe her.
Because usually when there is more than one of us, we’re like a lighthouse beacon to restless spirits—like when Beau is in the same room with me.
” She held up her hand and plucked at the rubber band.
“Which is why I came prepared. This distracts me and breaks the connection. More subtle than when Mom starts singing ABBA songs, and works the same way.”
She jumped up and lifted the cushion again to gather the wrappers.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry—I keep forgetting. I have to use the bathroom, and I thought I’d dispose of these before Mimi finds them. I think Henry and Camille are starting to wear on her nerves.”
I grinned at her repetition of something Melanie said often about all three of her children and dogs. “Sure. I’ll be here when you get back.” I closed my eyes, trying to relax despite the throbbing in my foot, and I had just started to drift into a restless sleep when Sarah returned.
“Why do you think Mimi put this in the bathroom?”
I knew before I opened my eyes that she’d be holding Miss Pussycat. “I don’t think she put it there. It just keeps…appearing.”
“Ew.” Sarah dropped the doll onto one of the side chairs. “Do you mean…?”
“Yes. Someone from beyond is trying to send us a message, but we don’t know who or why.”
“Where did it come from?”
“An old house on Esplanade Avenue. Actually, it’s the first project for Beau’s murder-house-flip idea. I’m helping with the renovation, and Cooper wants to buy it.”
She plopped down on the sofa again, dislodging my injured foot from the pillow it was resting on. “Sorry,” she said again. “Do you want me to go find out who?”
I contemplated my little sister, who was the spitting image of our dad and like a younger version of myself but who’d inherited Melanie’s psychic abilities and wasn’t afraid to use them.
I credited Melanie for instilling in Sarah a certain pride in this unique gift and teaching her a way to discern when and where to display it.
“I’m not sure. Beau’s naturally distracted right now, so I would appreciate your help, but there’s a very negative energy in the house and I don’t want you messing with it.
I’m pretty sure that it was the entity I saw in the backseat when the brakes stopped working and I crashed.
I doubt Melanie would sanction your involvement. ”
“Well, we wouldn’t have to tell her, would we?”
Before I could respond, Jolene and Camille entered the room with two trays full of steaming soup bowls, sandwiches, and freshly baked cookies—which Jolene had brought with her from her endless freezer supply—and set them on the coffee table.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Camille said.
“Nola’s always hungry,” Jolene said as she placed a tray in front of us and gave us each a napkin rolled expertly around cutlery.
Then she carefully slid the coffee table closer to the couch and placed my pills on my sandwich plate.
“So watch your fingers. I’ve got scars all over my hands from feeding her. ”
“Funny,” I said, my mouth watering at the smell of the tomato soup. “And please tell me that’s your pimento cheese on the sandwich.”
“It is,” Camille admitted. “And Mimi made the soup. I stay out of the kitchen as much as possible. I’m a terrible cook, as Henry keeps reminding me.”
She settled herself in one of the chairs opposite the couch. “Aren’t you going to eat anything?” I asked.
Camille shook her head. “Henry says I’m getting a little broad in the beam, so I’m skipping breakfast and lunch and just eating dinner. I did sneak a saltine in the kitchen, but don’t tell him.”
It didn’t look as if she was joking, so I didn’t say anything.
“Nice guy,” Sarah said under her breath before turning her attention to the food.
“Have you heard from Mimi or Beau?” Camille asked. “They said it would be a brief meeting and that they’d be home within two hours.”
I wondered about her impatience, but then I remembered that Adele had been her best friend, and that until Camille had read the newspaper article about Sunny’s return she had been living with the assumption that Adele was alive and well.
It must have been devastating for her to learn that her friend had been missing all this time and was now presumed dead.
As if reading my mind, she said, “I just need to know if I should be grieving or searching for Adele. Or if there is any clue if Buddy…” She stopped.
“If Buddy what?” I asked, a bite of sandwich suddenly sticking to the roof of my mouth.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to speculate. At least not before we know anything for sure.”
I put my soup spoon down, my appetite gone. “Speculate about what?”
She closed her mouth and looked down at her feet, which were no longer swinging under the edge of the chair. “Nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“But you did, and I’m curious. What did you mean?”
Sarah pretended to be texting on her phone, while Jolene busied herself with tidying around the room.
Still looking down, Camille said, “It’s just…
well, if Adele is dead and has been found in New Orleans, then why hasn’t Buddy been found?
Or come forward?” Her eyes met mine. “Why is he hiding? I don’t want to think it, because I loved Buddy like a brother, but what if…
” Her narrow shoulders lifted inside her baggy sweater.
“What if he hurt her? Whether or not he meant to. I mean, they could get into loud arguments, but I never saw him hit her. That’s not to say it didn’t happen, just that I never saw it happen. But wouldn’t that explain everything?”
“No.” I wanted to stand up and stomp around the room, the fact that I couldn’t making me doubly aggravated.
“It wouldn’t. And I hope you haven’t mentioned this to anyone besides me.
Because…” I shook my head, not wanting to even try to imagine what it would do to Mimi and Beau.
And Felicity. Learning that a beloved family member had been killed during historic flooding following a major storm was one thing.
Learning that the family member had been murdered was quite another.
“No. Of course not.” Camille’s voice had shrunk to the volume she usually used in Henry’s presence, and I felt bad that I had caused her stress. She continued. “I haven’t even said anything out loud. Until now. You seem…safe.”
“Good. And I promise that I won’t be repeating this to anyone. There’s absolutely no evidence, and nothing that I’ve learned about Buddy and Adele that would lead me to believe that Buddy had anything to do with Adele’s death.”
She held up her hands palms out, as if in surrender. “I know. That’s exactly how I feel. It’s just that, well…” Her voice disappeared.