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Something crashed upstairs.
“Damn it, Addy.” Chewing my lip, I climbed the stairs two at a time. I hoped I could afford to replace whatever it was Addy had broken.
Three of the four doors on the second floor were closed. The fourth—the bathroom—at the end of the hall stood half ajar, dark inside due to it being windowless.
“Addy, where are you?” I tried to keep the anger out of my voice, using sugar, her kryptonite, to lure her out of hiding.
I turned the knob to the rose wallpapered bedroom. Inside, I thumped across the wood floor in my grass-stained tennis shoes. Dust particles swirled around me. The photo of young Wolfgang was where I’d left it on the night stand.
I yanked open the closet door and found no Addy. The sight of several frilly, girl-sized dresses hung on the narrow rack, small hat boxes piled high on the overhead shelf, and multiple pairs of black, patent leather shoes lined up on the floor had me frowning. These weren’t here the last time I’d looked in this closet just days ago. Wolfgang must be storing them here for some reason. I ran my fingers down one lacy, pink sleeve, wondering what Wolfgang’s sister looked like, imagining how devastating it would be to lose a child. How would I ever go on breathing, eating, living with a chunk torn from my heart?
My fingertips brushed over something hard. I lifted the sleeve cuff and stared at a piece of ribbon safety-pinned to the lace, knotted around a tuft of white-blonde hair. Wilda’s hair? I dropped the cuff and backed out of the room, a wave of sadness followed by an eerie shudder spurring me.
Closing the bedroom door behind me, I moved on to room number two—the violet-papered boudoir.
“Addy?”
Again, agitated dust specks swarmed as I peeked under the bed and inspected the closet, which was empty except for a family of dust bunnies.
“Addy, I’m in no mood to play hide-and-seek right now.” My voice pierced the stillness of my purple surroundings. I rubbed the back of my neck, grimacing at the grittiness I found.
I shut the door to the violet room. When I reached Wolfgang’s bedroom, the knob wouldn’t turn. I squeezed and twisted again, but the door was locked.
“Open the damned door, Addy.”
No more sweet talk, I’d had enough. I leaned my head against the hard wood, waiting for the click of the lock. Nothing happened. The light leaking out under the door remained steady, no shadows, no sounds, no sign of life.
Maybe Wolfgang had locked the door before he headed for San Francisco. He could be using his room as storage for his mother’s valuables, figuring I might be bringing a cleaning crew through while he was gone. Smart thinking on his part, wishful dreaming on mine.
That left the bathroom. The door’s hinges squeaked as I shoved it wide. I pushed on the old-fashioned style button for the overhead lights, wondering if Wolfgang would need to update the electrical panel before selling the place.
No Addy in the bathroom, either. I walked over to the claw-foot tub and drew back the suspended shower curtain just to make sure. The tub bottom shined, squeaky clean to my touch. A faint bath water ring around the walls and a curled up spider by the drain were the only blights.
“Ewww.” I grimaced at the dead spider, and then looked into the mirror over the tidy sink. My curly spirals were escaping their bondage, sticking out all over like mini-antennas. Dirt streaked down from my temple and pooled in the creases of my neck. A big smudge covered the width of my forehead, a twin of the one on my forearm. “Double ewww.”
The toilet gleamed at me, reminding me that I’d gulped down a bottle of water after mowing. I opened the lid, happy to see water in the bottom of the faded rust-ringed bowl. When in Rome, I thought and closed the door.
I glanced around the spotless white and black tiled floor while in the midst of “Rome-ing” it, realizing that besides the kitchen, the bathroom was the cleanest room in the house. Wolfgang must have scrubbed down both rooms before my first visit. A small, opaque crystal resting on a black tile near one of the tub’s clawed feet caught my eye. Was that a rhinestone? Or a diamond? A jewel that had fallen out of Wolfgang’s pocket while cleaning?
I stretched and grabbed it, noticing chips in the crystal upon closer inspection.
A door groaned open in the outside hall.
“Addy, freeze!” I shouted, pocketing the crystal, and then finishing up, flushing, and skipping the handwashing part in my rush to catch my kid in the act. I hauled open the door.
The hallway was empty.
Waning daylight peeked out from Wolfgang’s room. Addy had left the door open in her haste to escape. That little shit was going to lose her candy privileges for a month.
I grabbed the knob, starting to pull it shut, but then curiosity got the best of me and I stepped into the room. The horses and groomsmen lining the hunter green walls chased after poor foxes without making sound. An old-fashioned skeleton key filled the keyhole below the inside doorknob.
I tiptoed around the queen-size bed, careful not to disturb the dust smothering the embroidered duvet. What had Wolfgang been like as a little kid? A teenager? A young man? The smell of bay rum lingered under the varnish.
A brass picture frame lay on the floor by the dresser. Frowning, I bent and picked it up, careful to avoid the broken bits of glass scattered around it. A black-and-white picture of a young woman with a long nose and blunt forehead stared back, her eyes steely, her lips thin, her hair dark.
Was this Wolfgang’s mother? The woman Natalie and her school friends joked about being a witch? I could see a faint resemblance to Wolfgang in her cheekbones and jaw line.
The sound of another door slamming in the hall jerked me out of my scrutiny.
