by Ellen Hart
“I’m interested in renting one of your bedrooms.”
The woman peered at her through a pair of rimless glasses before saying, “Please. Come in.”
The interior of the house smelled like coffee and cinnamon rolls, and appeared to be in better shape than the exterior. The living room was warm and inviting, with a muted mustard-colored paint on the walls, a fireplace flanked by built-in bookcases and a mantel filled with photographs. The furniture wasn’t antique, although it was old. If Jane had to guess, she would have said it was all circa 1970s. Lots of oranges, avocado greens, and golds, a color scheme so dated that it was coming back into style. The wood floor was covered by a threadbare oriental. Directly to her right were half-open pocket doors revealing a den with a TV. Jane assumed it was there that Britt had discovered the drawings. An upright piano sat against the stairway.
“Are you interested in renting by the week or the month?” asked Eleanor.
“The week,” said Jane. She wasn’t sure how much information she’d need to give, which could be a problem.
“We don’t ask you to sign a lease. But we don’t accept checks or credit. Just cash.”
“That’s fine.” Jane wondered if she was really going to rent one of the bedrooms.
Eleanor introduced herself, explaining the various rules. “We don’t allow you to use the kitchen, but there are microwaves in two of the rooms. We mostly get students because we’re so close to the U of M agricultural campus.” She smiled, smoothing her apron. “If you’ll follow me?”
Halfway up the stairway was a landing. One side of the stairway led up from the living room, the other down into the kitchen. Making a left, they continued on up a longer flight of stairs to a second floor landing. Eleanor opened up three doors, turned on the overhead lights in each room, and allowed Jane to look around. “As you can see, two of the rooms are the same size. One has a single bed, a large dresser, and comfortable reading chair and floor lamp. The other has a double bed with a smaller dresser and a desk.”
Jane was drawn to the room with the double bed. The furniture was old but sturdy, the wallpaper a light green damask pattern. The block captain had been right when he said the rooms were clean. There was something almost Little House on the Prairie–esque about them. Perhaps it was the lack of clutter. “Do you have Wi-Fi?”
Eleanor laughed. “We’d never be able to rent to students if we didn’t provide that. My sister, Lena, she’s on the … the Facebook all the time. I was never much of a computer person. I guess that makes me a dinosaur.”
“This room would work for me.”
Eleanor seemed pleased. “Oh, I should mention. We have a garage for rent. It would be an extra fee. This has been an unusually warm fall, but we’re going to get snow. If you have a car—”
“I do.”
“Would you like to see it?”
“Sure.”
Eleanor led the way back downstairs into the kitchen. She removed a flashlight from one of the drawers, and then, lifting her coat off a hook by the back door, she said. “Our backyard light is burned out. I keep meaning to ask my son to replace it.”
“I could do that for you,” said Jane. “If you have a ladder.”
Eleanor turned to her. “That’s so kind of you. But Frank’s staying here for a few days, so let me see if I can get him to take care of it.”
The backyard was unfenced, the grass dry and patchy. Eleanor buttoned up her coat as she carefully negotiated what was left of the narrow sidewalk. “I used to love gardening,” she said. “All I can manage these days is making sure the house is clean, and even then, I need help from a lady in my church.” As she approached the double garage doors, she removed a set of keys from her pocket. “We use a padlock,” she said, slipping a key into the lock and tugging it apart. “It’s a little larger than your usual one stall. My father used it as a workshop back in the day. My great-grandfather built the home in 1881. It’s been our family’s home ever since.”
Jane’s cell phone rumbled inside her pocket. She removed it and checked to see who was calling.
“Do you need to take that?” asked Eleanor, turning her flashlight on the interior, revealing an uneven floor covered with a thin layer of crumbling concrete. “We used to have electricity out here, but it doesn’t work anymore. I haven’t wanted to spend the money to get it repaired.”
Jane walked in, using a flashlight app on her cell phone to illuminate the long, battered workbench, the open shelves. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust.
“My son painted that,” said Eleanor, nodding to the mural on the rear wall.
“Wow,” said Jane, walking closer. It was wonderfully colorful, filled with strange, unearthly birds and animals. “He’s talented. Do you mind if I get a picture?”
“Of course not.”
Jane held up her phone and took several.
“So,” said Eleanor, bending down to pick up a discarded Styrofoam cup, “would this work for you? I hear we may get snow in the next few days.”
“Sleet tomorrow night.” Jane hated this in-between kind of weather, when the temperature hovered around freezing. It wasn’t warm enough for rain, but not cold enough for snow. If she really was going to stay for a few days, renting the garage was probably a smart idea. “Yes, I’d like to rent it.”
“Wonderful,” said Eleanor. “Why don’t we go back in the house? I’ll get you a key for the padlock, one for the front door, and then we can settle your bill.”
As they trudged back through the dark, Jane wondered if she was making the right decision. For good or ill, it seemed she was about to become a temporary member of the Skarsvold household.
8
Jane’s plans for the evening had changed. Instead of returning to the restaurant to do online research on the Skarsvold case, she returned to her house to pack an overnight bag and explain to Julia that she’d be gone for a couple of nights.
Julia was generally home by six. Entering through the front door, Jane set her briefcase down in the foyer and then crouched to give her dogs the usual mix of scratches and hugs. Mouse carried a ball in his mouth and dropped it next to her foot, hoping for some playtime. “You are such a good boy,” she said, giving his ears a gentle pull. Gimlet couldn’t seem to stop spinning. “Come here,” said Jane, scooping the little poodle up and cradling her. “You’re a wiggle worm.” She grabbed the ball and tossed it into the living room. Mouse ran after it, nearly crashing into the couch.
Walking into the dining room, Jane found Carol Westin working alone at the table. As soon as Julia had moved in, the dining room table became her makeshift office. Carol sat amid stacks of papers and file folders, typing on a laptop. Julia often sat across from Carol, but tonight, seemed to be missing in action.
Carol tilted her head toward the kitchen. “If you’re hungry, I heated some of that soup you brought from the restaurant. There’s a lot left.”
“Where’s Julia?”
“She wasn’t feeling well, so she went up to bed.”
“This early?” Jane lowered herself into one of the chairs. “Is the headache back?”
“Yeah. Think so.”
“Did she take some of her painkillers?”
“I hope so.”
Jane kissed Gimlet’s head, watching Carol type. “Between you and me, how’s she doing?”
Carol typed a moment more, then stopped, sighed, and looked up. “She had a meeting again with that doctor over at the university.”
“I thought she was seeing Dr. Hansman at the Medical Arts building downtown.”
“Dr. Reid took over in early November. As I understand it, he’s more of a specialist. She never really confides in me about her illness.”
Jane was beginning to get the sense that Julia wasn’t confiding in her either.
“I’m not sure what Dr. Reid said, but I don’t think it was good news. She went in for another CT scan last week. Did she mention that?”
Jane shook her head.
&nb
sp; “Well, everyone handles things differently.”
“What are you working on?” asked Jane, nodding to the papers.
“Foundation stuff. There’s so much to do, but, little by little, we’re getting there. We have meetings with lawyers all day tomorrow.”
“You think Julia will be well enough to do that?”
“Sometimes I don’t know where she finds the strength, but yeah, she’ll be there.”
“Listen, Carol, I’m going to be gone the next couple of nights. It’s part of a new case I’m working on. I don’t really want to leave her alone. I don’t suppose you could stay. You know, just in case she needs something and I’m not around.”
“Why not? I’ve got nothing at home but a cat who wouldn’t care if I never appeared, as long as he had enough food. I wanted a sweet, friendly little guy, but instead I adopted a sleek, gorgeous Norman Bates.”
“That bad?”
“He’s a sociopath. Of course, you could probably make a case that all cats are sociopaths.”
“Ouch.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I love him. But being around your dogs, it just makes me realize that affection isn’t his strong suit.” She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I’ll need about an hour to run home and pick up some things.”
“Take your time,” said Jane. “And thanks.”
After the dogs gobbled down their evening kibble in the kitchen, Jane let them out into the backyard, watching them through the window over the sink as she ate a quick bowl of soup. When they were finished, she wiped off their paws. Knowing she had a treat, Mouse kept sniffing her hand as she climbed up the stairs. Entering the bedroom, she pointed to the dog bed in the corner and both dogs hopped in. She handed them each a Milk-Bone, whispering for them to lie down. Mouse was his usual obedient self, but Gimlet seemed more interested in jumping up on the bed to be with Julia. For some reason, pointing at Gimlet and looking stern seemed to impress the little poodle. After twirling a couple more times, she snuggled down next to Mouse and began to crunch her way through the treat.
Jane sat down on the bed next to Julia, watching her breathe softly into a blanket she’d bunched under her chin. In the dim light, her face was still so young and lovely, with a vulnerability she masked, often at great expense, while awake. The work she was doing with Carol was fundamentally end-of-life planning. After what Carol had told her, Jane wondered if there was some new wrinkle in either her health or her treatment. The lack of trust that had existed between them for so many years continued to have repercussions. Habit was hard to break.
“You’re home,” said Julia, opening her eyes, a faint smile on her lips.
“I didn’t mean to wake you. How are you feeling?”
She turned on her back, held the palm of her hand to one eye. “Not great.”
“Anything I can do? Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Thirsty?”
“I have everything I need.”
“Really?” Jane brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek. “I wish I could do more.” Feeling helpless, her eyes welled with tears.
“Oh, Jane. I’m fine. All I need is a good night’s rest. I’ll be back in the game tomorrow. Just wait and see.”
“I know you will,” said Jane, leaning down to kiss her.
“That was nice. Why don’t you crawl in?”
Jane stretched out next to her. She explained about renting a room at the Skarsvold house, that she would be gone for a couple of nights.
“That’s fine,” said Julia. “Tell me about your new case.” She closed her eyes.
Jane spent the next few minutes filling her in. The soft smile on Julia’s face began to fade as her breathing deepened. Content just to stay in the moment, Jane closed her eyes, too. When the door opened and then shut downstairs, causing Mouse to give a low growl, she roused herself, knowing Carol had returned.
“You better go,” said Julia.
“I don’t want to leave you.”
“I’m not good for much tonight. Besides, I need my beauty sleep.”
“You hardly need sleep to be beautiful.”
“Careful, Jane. You don’t want to overcommit, or give the impression that you really care.”
“Of course I care.”
She smiled, pressing a finger to Jane’s lips. “It’s fine. We don’t need to relitigate our dysfunction every five minutes. I’m happy to take what I can get, especially now that it includes your body.”
Jane was torn. Maybe the Skarsvold case could wait.
“You go,” said Julia, turning on her side, facing away from Jane. “I’ll be fine. Honestly. All I’m going to do for the next eight hours is sleep. Not very exciting stuff.”
Jane explained that she’d asked Carol to stay with her for the next couple of nights.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” came her annoyed response.
“No, but for my peace of mind, I’d like her to be here. I’ll give you a call in the morning. In fact, let’s plan to have lunch together.”
“I think I have all-day meetings. But I can check and let you know.” She reached behind her and patted Jane’s hand. “You go be a superhero and save the world.”
“If I had a choice, I’d rather save you.”
“That’s a nice thought. To be continued.”
* * *
As soon as Jane swung her Mini into the driveway behind the Skarsvold house, her headlights hit the garage, revealing the word “witch” spray painted in bold black letters across the doors. She sat for a moment, nonplussed, wondering who would have done such a thing.
Backing her car up, she drove around the block and parked along Cumberland Avenue, behind a white Chevy Suburban. She pulled her overnight bag off the passenger’s seat and headed up the walk. Even before she reached the steps, she could see the dark outlines of two people sitting directly to the left of the front door.
“You must be Jane,” said the woman in the wheelchair, a cigarette dangling from her lips. “I’m Lena, Eleanor’s sister. Welcome to Chez Skarsvold.”
“Thanks,” said Jane. Lena looked nothing like Eleanor. Her face was hard, covered in deep wrinkles. Her hair looked like it had been packed away in an old trunk for centuries. Wherever it had come from, it definitely wasn’t real.
The burly bearded guy sitting next to Lena wore a sheepskin-lined suede jacket, jeans, and hiking boots.
Turning toward him, Lena said, “This is our new renter. Jane something-or-other.”
Jane shook the man’s hand.
“Butch Averil,” he said. “I live in the house next door.”
“Kind of cold to be sitting out here,” said Jane.
“We’re Minnesotans,” said Lena. “That means, by definition, we’re crazy.”
Jane did a double take. “Listen,” she said. “I’m renting the garage space, but when I pulled in a few minutes ago, I noticed that someone had spray painted the word ‘witch’ across the doors. I didn’t want to disturb it until you’d had a look.”
“Oh, for the love of—”
“I’ll take care of it,” said Butch. “It’s the neighborhood kids. They think the house is haunted.”
“You might want to call the police, make a report,” said Jane.
“No police,” came Lena’s sharp response.
“You sure you don’t want to reconsider that?” said Butch. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he swiveled around so he could survey the dark street.
“They’re harmless,” said Lena. “A bunch of kids can’t hurt us.”
Jane wouldn’t have been that cavalier about it if it had been her garage, though if Lena decided to ignore it, that was her call. “Well, think I’ll head up to bed.”
“Eleanor always turns in early. If you need anything, come talk to me. My bedroom is in the sunroom off the dining room. I don’t sleep well, so I’m usually up.”
“Nice meeting you,” said Butch, rising halfway and touching the brim of his base
ball cap.
“Yeah, ditto,” said Lena, dismissing Jane with a cursory wave.
Except for the ticking of an ornate clock sitting atop the mantel, the interior of the house was quiet. Each step on the stairway up to the second floor squeaked under Jane’s weight. At least nobody, she concluded, would be able to sneak up on her. She felt relieved when she entered the bedroom and shut the door behind her. She switched on the overhead light and threw the bolt lock. After setting her overnight case on the floor in front of the nightstand, she sat down on the bed, testing it out. She hated supersoft beds as much as she did the extra hard variety. This one seemed okay. If Cordelia was here, she would undoubtedly find a lump that would make a good night’s sleep impossible, but then Cordelia was a princess. Jane needed far less to be comfortable.
Thinking of Cordelia, Jane propped a couple of pillows against the headboard, stretched out, and took out her cell phone. She punched in the number. A couple seconds later, Cordelia answered.
“Wassup?”
“Where are you?” asked Jane.
“At the theater. Where are you?”
Jane explained about the sign on the front lawn, and about renting a room at Britt’s aunts’ house.
“You’re inside the belly of the beast? Have to say, Janey, you work fast. Discovered any moldering bodies yet?”
“Reel in your overactive imagination for a minute and let me run something past you.”
“Better yet, I could come over with my magnifying glass and jammies. We could have an old-fashioned sleepover.”
“Just listen, okay. When I got here, I found that kids in the neighborhood had spray painted the word ‘witch’ on the garage. Apparently, it’s not the first time that sort of vandalism has happened here. What do you make of it?”
“That the kids are smart. They’re trying to warn the world.”
“I ran into Lena Skarsvold on my way inside, the younger of the two aunts. When I mentioned it to her and suggested that she might want to call the police and file a report, she shut it down immediately. ‘No police’ she said. Period. End of sentence.”
