The House on Tradd Street (50 page)

“And why the fountain’s never worked—it’s probably not even hooked up. Robert built the fountain as a monument to his wife, but was afraid of workmen finding the bodies if they ever dug deep enough to install water pipes.” I shook my head, remembering the times I’d been in the garden and felt Louisa’s presence. And now I knew why.

“We’ll need to call the police,” Jack said.

“I know.” I frowned, uncomfortable with the peace of the garden being destroyed, even if just temporarily. “Can we wait until morning? I think Louisa likes it there. I’d like to give her one more night in her garden.”

“Sure.” Jack turned his head. “Hey, do you smell that?”

The pungent odor of fresh roses enveloped the room, filling our nostrils with their sweet scent. “Yes,” I said, smiling. “I think Louisa’s saying thank you.”

The clock began chiming downstairs and Jack stood. “It’s a quarter till. I think we should go downstairs now so we don’t miss anything.”

I nodded and followed him to the door. We had almost reached it when it slammed shut in front of us. Jack leapt for it and tried to turn the handle. “I think it’s locked. Do you have the key?”

“No,” I said, smelling that other odor now as it mixed with that of the roses.

“God, where is that smell coming from?” Jack asked, scrunching up his nose. “I’ve smelled it before, and I never expected to smell it again in my lifetime.”

“What is it?” I asked, almost gagging as the scent of the roses was completely obliterated by the foul odor.

He stared hard at me for a long time, and I recalled what I’d read about his military service, and I wished I hadn’t asked. “It smells like dead bodies that have been left out in the sun. It’s a smell you don’t easily forget.”

I turned away and closed my eyes to make them stop stinging. “He’s trying to scare us. Don’t let him or he’ll win. And remember that Louisa is on our side.” It was scant comfort, but it was all I had to offer.

Jack turned the handle and tugged on the door. At first it wouldn’t budge, and then suddenly the force holding it shut let go, sending Jack flying backward into me as the door gave way. The lights flickered again and Jack reached for my hand. “Don’t let go of my hand, Mellie. He wants us separated.”

I wasn’t about to argue and clutched Jack’s hand like a drowning person would grab a piece of floating wood. The lights all began to turn brighter and brighter, the house filled with the sound of humming until one by one we heard the
pop-pop
of lightbulbs shattering. A blast of cold air engulfed us, frigid enough to make my fingers and nose numb. I shivered and Jack squeezed my hand as the last lightbulb burst and we were thrown into complete darkness.

“Close your eyes, Mellie—that way you’ll rely on your other senses until your night vision kicks in.”

I nodded and shut my eyes, envisioning the upstairs hallway as I began to follow Jack toward the stairs. As he headed toward the top step, I tugged on his arm. “He tried to push me down them before, remember? Sit down and let’s work our way to the bottom that way.”

“Good idea,” he said as he sat, pulling me down next to him. Slowly we made our way down, step by step. We were near the bottom when Jack let out a muffled cry, and I felt him yank on my hand.

I stopped. “What’s wrong?”

He was breathing heavily and trying hard not to gag on the odor, which was stronger now, and which, in the dark with our eyes closed, made me think of an old grave. “Something just kicked me hard in the back. I’m okay. It just took my breath away. Keep moving.”

We made it down one more step. As I turned to Jack to ask if I could open my eyes yet, icy fingers wrapped themselves around my throat and began to squeeze. I let go of Jack’s hand and reached for my neck, feeling nothing but empty, cold air. I struggled to breathe; even the fetid air would have been welcome if I could just open my airways to let it in.

“Mellie, are you all right?”

I felt Jack’s warm breath on my face, and I thawed slightly. Something guttural erupted from my mouth, and then Jack’s hands closed over mine as he struggled to pull them from my neck.

“Remember—you’re stronger than he is. Keep saying that, Mellie. Mellie, can you hear me?”

I kicked my foot out, striking nothing. Spots formed behind my eyelids, and heat seared my lungs. Jack’s voice sounded very far away. “Mellie, you’re stronger than he is—say it! Come on, Mellie, come back to me.”

I latched on to Jack’s voice and his breath on my cheeks. And then I saw my mother’s face, and she was telling me that I was strong, that no spirit could hurt me unless I let them.
Mama,
I thought, and she was there, touching my hair, telling me that she loved me. I opened my eyes in shock at the memory and gasped a lungful of air, bringing me back to the present.
I’m stronger than you,
I shouted in my head. “I’m stronger than you,” exploded from my mouth as I broke the hold on my throat before throwing myself down the remaining four steps.

The clock chimed. “Hurry, Jack. It’s almost midnight.”

He came from behind me, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the drawing room in time to hear the third chime. Hazy light spilled into the room from the streetlamp and the full moon, highlighting the dark bulk of the clock and the filmy haze that seemed to float in the air around it like the old hopes of a small boy.

We stood in front of the clock, our hands still clasped together, as a cold wind passed through us. I began to smell the roses now, slowly obliterating the putrid smell of decay and death. The clock chimed again and then again, for the eighth time.

“Listen,” said Jack as he opened up the casing. The clock chimed nine and then ten times as we stared into the darkened hollow of the clock, the brass pendulum ticking away the minutes, reflecting the hazy light. “Do you hear that?”

I knelt next to Jack and listened carefully. I heard the sound of the clock’s chime mechanism, but there was something else, a faint clicking noise coming from inside the clock. “It’s in the secret compartment,” I said, my voice high-pitched and raspy. With a shaking hand, I reached inside and fumbled for the secret button and pushed. Nothing happened. The clock chimed for the eleventh time, and I pushed harder on the button, hearing the click as the hidden panel opened. Jack moved his head back to allow the outside light to shine in just in time for me to see a small wooden box begin to raise itself like a small elevator into the clock. I jabbed my hand inside and closed my fist around something soft and bulky.

Yanking my hand out, I watched as the little box slowly raised itself into the top of the clock, until the bottom of it made a false top to the secret compartment. The whirring and clicking stopped, the clock silenced until the next midnight started the show all over again.

I sat back on my heels, feeling dizzy.

“Did you find anything?” Jack’s voice was hushed although we were alone now. Even the spirits had gone, leaving only the fading scent of roses.

I opened my hand so we could see a pouch identical to the one we’d found in Gus’s humidor. I looked at Jack and he smiled. “I think my next book is going to have a happy ending.”

As we’d done before, Jack took the pouch from me and unfastened it, then tilted it over my cupped hands. We watched as three large diamonds fell into my palms, winking at us in the light from the windows.

A crack of thunder shook the foundation as a sudden wind gust pushed at the house, making the eaves howl. A loud crash brought us rushing to the side window to peer out into the midnight garden. A flash of lightning illuminated the side yard for a moment, showing a branch from the oak tree that had fallen on the fountain, neatly splitting it in two. A dark hole appeared beside the fountain like spilled ink, and a shapeless form emerged from the blackness, terrifying in its opaqueness.

The wind moved the leaves and branches of the tree, but the form stood still, as if waiting for something. Then another dark form appeared from beneath the fountain and I recognized the man with the hat I’d seen peering at me from the upstairs window.
Joseph.
The howling began again, but this time I realized it wasn’t coming from the wind. The shapeless form seemed to be absorbing Joseph, like two funnel clouds merging into one. Lightning crashed nearby, traveling through the ground and up through my legs, making my bones tingle. The garden was illuminated for a brief moment, long enough for us to see the hole close in on itself, leaving only the broken fountain and the old oak tree to guard the garden’s secrets.

The house sighed, and I leaned into Jack. “It’s over,” I said and I began to weep. Not for me, but for a mother who had never stopped loving her son, and for the son who finally knew the truth.

That night, Jack and I slept on the floor by the clock, the diamonds crushed between us, finally waking from dreamless sleep when dawn pierced the sky and the Charleston sun streamed into the windows of the house on Tradd Street.

W
hen Sophie and Chad along with General Lee appeared later that morning, they were greeted with yellow police tape encircling the garden and a county coroner’s ambulance waiting at the curb.

“Whoa, dudette,” Chad said as I met them at the garden gate. “Did you do something to Jack?”

“No,” I replied with a half grin. “Although now that I know how to hide a body for almost eighty years, I might consider it.”

Sophie touched my arm. “So you found her?”

Her nose was red and swollen, and I tried not to stare as I answered. “Yes. It’s a long story, but both Louisa and Joseph were buried in the garden. I’ll tell you the specifics later—things are kind of hectic right now.”

Sophie blinked at me through exceptionally unattractive John Lennon glasses. “I guess your trip to Vermont was a success, then.”

“In more ways than one. We found the diamonds, too.”

Sophie tightened her rainbow scarf—the one that matched her Mork suspenders currently attached to a pair of oversized painter’s pants. “That’s great, isn’t it? That means we’ll be able to finish the restoration.”

I watched as my dad tried to guide the police excavation to spare as much of his garden as possible. From my vantage point it appeared the police shovels were winning. “I hope so. I’m hiring a lawyer to make sure that I get to keep them, but from what Jack tells me, I own the house, so technically they’re mine. I’m thinking that I’ll send a large donation to the Daughters of the Confederacy, seeing as how Jefferson Davis wanted the funds to go to the widows and orphans of soldiers. But not to worry. There will be plenty left over for the restoration.”

Chad raised his hand and high-fived Sophie. “Great,” she said as she took General Lee’s leash off of her wrist and handed it to me. “Now you can afford to hire a dog sitter.”

I looked at Chad in confusion and he shrugged. “Soph here is allergic and the Leester can’t come with me when I move into Sophie’s house.”

“You’re moving in with Sophie?”

Sophie patted my arm again. “It’s only temporary—and just as roommates. I’m trying to help him out because his current lease expires at the end of the month, and you haven’t found him the right house yet.”

I wanted to point out that the reason I hadn’t found the right house for him yet was because he kept canceling our appointments to go see one. But I still had visions of being godmother to their firstborn so I didn’t mention it. Instead I asked, “But what do I do with a dog?”

“It’s easy,” said Chad, thrusting a bag of dog food at me. “He’ll let you know what he needs.”

“Great,” I said, looking down at soulful brown eyes and a wagging tail. “Maybe Jack wants a dog.”

General Lee looked up at me, and I could have sworn he frowned before giving a little bark.

Sophie sneezed. “We’re going to be late for yoga—I’ll call you later. Maybe we can try breakfast at that new place, City Lights, and you can fill me in on everything, and I can tell you what my next projects will be for the house.”

“Fine,” I said. “But the first thing we’re going to do is repair the fountain and garden. I think my dad might cry if it stays like that for too long.”

“Fair enough,” said Sophie. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”

I watched them walk away, with Sophie hitching up her pants every few steps as Chad guided her away from sidewalk cracks and other obstacles.

My smile faded as I recognized Marc’s car pulling up to the curb. I considered turning and running in the opposite direction, but then I remembered Louisa facing down a gun, and it gave me the courage to stand my ground.

Marc’s face became serious as he approached. He must have seen from my expression that I wasn’t happy to see him. He glanced over at the police activity in the garden. “Are you all right? What’s going on here?”

“We’re digging up your grandfather and Louisa Vanderhorst. The police can fill you in. Right now, I’m going to go walk my dog.” I placed the bag of dog food on the sidewalk next to the gate and wrapped the leash around my hand.