The Lemoncholy Life of Annie Aster Page 19

  “You got the plant?”Cap’n asked. When Annie handed it to her, Cap’n motioned for her to follow and scrambled after a passing trolley, hopping on board with practiced ease. She reached back to lend Annie a hand. Making eye contact with the conductor, she jerked her head toward Annie as if to say, “She’s with me,” and led her to a seat toward the back.

  Cap’n latched the money clip to the top of her bib, then sat in silence, watching the sunset wash over the cityscape like a sheet of honey. Annie looked up to see the trolley had entered the park and started casting about for familiar landmarks. As she did so, she began to talk quietly, almost as if to herself. She talked about her grandmother and how they’d never met, only communicating through letters. Of course, she avoided the not-so-insignificant issue of time, choosing instead to focus on how quickly fondness had grown from their mutual uncertainty.

  She talked about how she delighted in her grandmother’s testiness and her independence, and how she was growing to rely on her wisdom. She talked about family and responsibility. And, finally, she talked about love and how it had come upon her so quietly that she didn’t recognize it for what it was until its grip was unbreakable.

  She wasn’t certain why she shared all this. Perhaps it was to provide context, or perhaps it was to throw Cap’n off balance so she wouldn’t question Annie when, without any indication that the subject had changed, she launched into the series of events that would take place later in the evening, as she had pieced them together from El’s letter and the two articles from the antique store—Abbott’s return home, Elsbeth’s confrontation, the interruption by Mr. Culler and Danyer, and the nosy neighbor.

  “Elsbeth is at Coates Theater attempting to warn Mr. Abbott of danger right now,” Annie said. “She’ll fail, but that won’t stop her. She’ll go to his home to try again. It’s imperative that she not see us.” She closed her eyes, listening to the chatter of the wheels on the tracks.

  When Annie finished her tale, Cap’n tucked her feet underneath the bench and stared at Annie for a stretch. “You’re a mystery, and that’s a fact,” she said.The corners of her mouth dimpled. “Here’s what we’re going do,” she added.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  Cadavers and Spiders

  See where the end of the street seems to go right up that drive on the other block?” Cap’n asked. “The house at the end belongs to Mr. Abbott.”

  The house in question sat in the middle of a block forming a T- junction with the one Annie and Cap’n were on. She took stock of a majestic, plantation- style house at the end of a drive bordered on each side by hedgerows. White columns lined its porch and supported a second- story veranda. “I didn’t realize we were so close,” she said, feeling a little panicky. She stopped, trying to estimate the remaining distance. A hundred yards, the length of a football field, she decided. That’s all that separated her from the place where she had spent the first year of her life, the place that would have been her home had things played out differently on this very night.

  Cap’n tugged at her sleeve, looking concerned.

  Annie wrapped her hand around Cap’n’s and squeezed before motioning for her to lead the way.

  Being a smart kid with a healthy dose of intuition, Cap’n decided a distraction was in order and began a running discourse on the neighborhood’s inhabitants as they closed the distance. “That house yonder belongs to the widow McCready,” she said, lifting her head to indicate the house directly to the left of the Abbott estate. “We call it the ‘goose.’” And it was— a goose among swans— an unremarkable home on a large plot of land with a few live oaks set off by another hedge that divided the properties. Cap’n grinned. “Tater’s ma is best friends with Hannah, and she has lots to say about Mrs. McCready.”

  “Who’s Hannah? Wait, who’s Tater?”

  “Tater is one of the gang, and Hannah’s Mr. Abbott’s housekeeper. All Tater’s ma hears about from Hannah is how handsome Mr. Abbott is and how that old Mrs. McCready makes any fool excuse to visit so she can make doe eyes at him, knocking on his door day and night, asking for a cup of sugar or bringing him dessert, and never giving him a moment’s peace. Tater’s ma says it’s embarrassing how the widow McCready goes on and that she should be ashamed of herself for behaving like that around a man half her age and whose wife ain’t even been in the ground a year yet.”

  “Tater’s ma sounds like a God-fearing woman.” Annie didn’t even try to keep the humor from her voice.

  “I don’t think she holds much truck with church, to be honest,” Cap’n said. “Runs the bordello on Main Street, you see.”

  Annie wisely declined to comment, being perfectly scandalized by the breadth of Cap’n’s experience, though she wasn’t able to muzzle her grin. “Well, perhaps we should find a place to settle,” she said, pointing to the hedge between the properties. “How about over there by the oak trees?”

  “I’ll take a look.”Cap’n scampered out of sight, only to reappear a moment later. “Follow me,” she said. “There’s a likely spot in the back where the hedge curves around an oak. We can see the Abbott and McCready houses, but I don’t see how no one will spot us.”

  Annie settled in with her back against a tree, her dress hogging most of the clearing. She tucked the excess out of the way to make room for Cap’n, who hunkered down and made herself comfortable. She pulled some peanuts from her pocket and held them out. When Annie shook her head, Cap’n began to shell and pop them, one by one, into her mouth. One bounced off her upper lip and rolled down her overalls to the ground between her crossed legs. After a brief search, she gave up and reached in her pocket for more. “You should eat,” she said.

  “I don’t have much of an appetite, I’m afraid.” Annie leaned her head against the tree and rested her eyes. She chuckled, a drowsy sound, when Cap’n stuck a peanut between her lips. She began to chew. Suddenly ravenous, she held her hand out for more.

  Cap’n poured the remainder into Annie’s palm, stuffed the bag in her pocket, and rocked back on both elbows, looking skyward. A cicada started to stridulate, breaking off when Cap’n said, “My dad left Ma just after I was born.”

  Annie cracked an eye open and encouraged Cap’n with a nod before closing it again.

  “Then when Ma died, I was supposed to be sent to the orphanage.” She reached under her hip, eyeing an acorn for a second before tossing it over the hedge. “I had other ideas.” Then she began to talk in earnest, sharing with Annie what it was like to live on the street, scavenging for food by the most wretched means, sleeping through winter in boxes stuffed with newspaper, being constantly alert to violence. Worse than all that, however, was the utter indifference she encountered.

  “It was like, all of a sudden, I was invisible. People didn’t want to see me. I made them uncomfortable, maybe even a little angry. Fabian says”—she paused for a second before correcting herself— “said…they resent the fact that I make them face their own pettiness.” She shook her head. “He was the closest thing to a pa I ever had.”

  As best Annie could tell, Fabian had taken it upon himself to look after the children caught in Mr. Culler’s grift. He taught the new kids the ropes and created the code of conduct for the gang—a lowbrow system that, based on Cap’n’s description, was more Robin Hood than West Point, though no less honorable in its own way. It was based on three simple, unbreakable rules. Don’t take if it harms. Defend the gang. And, when honor demands it, even the score.

  “Fabian made me Cap’n because I have street smarts and I’m good with the other kids.”

  While they were settling in, Cap’n chronicled the gang’s history, complete with descriptions of some of its more colorful characters. “Andrew actually went on to pitch for the Cleveland Spiders. He was before my time though.”

  Cap’n narrated Andrew’s exploits in the professional league as the night’s smoke doused the last light of day, but not without a fight. The lawns, hedges, trees, and all their green things were
banded with gold for a glorious moment before fading into shadow. And shadows within shadow. The day sounds turned into night sounds. The clippety-clop of hooves on dirt and the crunch of wheels on gravel turned into the chirrup of crickets and the peeping of frogs—all this as spring’s clean perfume piggybacked on a whisper of air that tiptoed across their skin. It was an altogether bewitching night in Westport.

  “… The gang called Andrew ‘Pepper’ because he threw a mean fastball.” Cap’n eyed Annie, counting off names. “There’s Tater, Bit, Bean, Checkers…”

  Cap’n’s voice blended into the backdrop of night noises, soothing Annie. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, giving in to a rush of fatigue. She rode a languorous wave inside her head until her eyes suddenly flashed open. Recognizing the sensation, she shook off her lethargy and peered over the hedge to see a diminutive lady walking stiffly down the street in the distance, wearing the same dress Annie recalled from a photograph.

  The older woman walked over to a streetlight and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her brow as if she too had a touch of vertigo. She looked about in confusion, then began to stare intently at Mr. Abbott’s home.

  Cap’n followed Annie’s gaze. “That her?” she asked. “Yes,” Annie said. “That’s Elsbeth. That’s my grandmother.” Cap’n rested her hand on Annie’s arm in silent support. “She’s coming this way,” said Annie.

  “What?” Cap’n’s head jerked around.

  Elsbeth was indeed walking directly toward them. Looking around to determine what had given them away, Cap’n’s eyes rested on the bib of her overalls. The money clip was aglow like a cat’s eyes, reflecting the light from Mrs. McCready’s porch and flickering as she moved. Cap’n turned to Annie. “I’ll handle this.”

  “She’s a character, your grandma. Asked me if I was stirring up mischief,” Cap’n said, returning from her encounter with Elsbeth. She settled back down behind the oak, her lips canting to one side as she shook her head. “She don’t know the half of it.” Cap’n pocketed three silver dollars and cocked her thumb over her shoulder. “I saw Mr. Abbott as I was circling back.”

  Annie scrambled to her knees, peering over the hedge to catch a glimpse of her father disappearing into the house with Elsbeth following unnoticed.

  Moments later, Elsbeth knocked on the door and Abbott reemerged. Annie and Cap’n couldn’t hear what was being said, but they could tell Mr. Abbott was not pleased. They watched as the little woman pushed her way past Mr. Abbott and inside the house.

  “Gotta hand it to her. She’s got pluck,” Cap’n said. Clearly flustered, Abbott followed her inside, closing the door. Cap’n tapped Annie on the shoulder before pointing down the length of the hedge. “I think we should head to the back of the house. It won’t do for the widow McCready to see us.” She kept a worried eye on Annie as they settled around back. She’d hardly said a word since her grandma showed up, though her eyes looked as though they were full of them, Cap’n thought. Peering over the hedge, Cap’n tried to imagine what was happening inside. Having met Annie’s grandma for only a moment, she was certain that it involved a good tongue-lashing.

  Abbott’s front door was out of their line of sight, so Cap’n sat down next to Annie, waiting. A dog bayed, but a sharp rap at Abbott’s front door cut it off. Cap’n’s eyebrows rose as she heard the murmured exchange of voices. “Culler?” she mouthed. Annie nodded. Minutes ticked by, one after the other.

  Without warning, Abbott’s back door opened and Elsbeth stole down the pathway, disappearing into the alley. Their turn was coming.

  As scripted by Annie, a lady in a nightgown and hairnet walked across the lawn directly in front of them and knocked on Abbott’s door. When there was no answer, she looked around and sneaked to the side window, her head bobbing up and down as she strained to look inside. Lurching back abruptly with one hand clamped over her mouth, the widow McCready shuffled quickly back into her house. The brittle clank of her screen door shutting cracked across the lawn.

  “It’s time,” Cap’n said. “I’m going on the roof before the cops get here. You got hold of yourself ?”

  Not trusting her voice, Annie only nodded.

  “You need to signal when the coast is clear and I can go inside.” Not waiting for a response, Cap’n sprinted across the yard and began shimmying like a squirrel up a vine wrapped around a corner column. She grabbed a drainpipe and pulled herself past the veranda and onto the roof where she clambered over to sit in the shadow of a dormer window, settling in with her elbows crossed over her knees—a pocket-sized gargoyle.

  Hearing horse hooves on gravel, Annie peeked over the top of the hedge. A pair of police officers were looking down at Mrs. McCready who was gesturing wildly at the Abbott home. Leaving her behind, they wandered to Abbott’s front door, opened it, and vanished inside.

  Annie melted under the hedge as two more walked past, stationing themselves directly under the dormer window where Cap’n was sitting.

  One light after another went on in the house.

  Annie muffled a gasp, reaching for the trunk of the oak, when she realized why the house was being searched. The police were looking for the baby. They were looking for her. Time was out of joint. The future, past, and present were entwined for an infant thrown forward and a woman traveling backward in the stream of time.

  A light poured through the dormer window next to Cap’n, bathing the shingles below in a luminous strip. Annie collected herself and peeked through a gap in the hedge to see a man’s face in the window casting a long shadow over the roof. Cap’n sat next to him, frozen, her eyes aglow. An anxious moment later, the shadow disappeared from view, and the incandescent band below the window vanished as a light was extinguished.

  When the downstairs lights went out a short time later, Annie counted to ten and peered down the road leading away from the house. She was just able to make out a pair of shadows moving down the drive. The police had completed their search.

  She peered at the rooftop, racking her brain on how to signal Cap’n without alerting the duty officers, when she saw a silhouette separate from the shingles and open the window. Obviously, Cap’n had seen the flaw in their strategy and had taken matters into her own hands.

  Perched on the windowsill like a tattered crow, Cap’n scanned the darkened room and tried to get her bearings. She looked over her shoulder, thinking she’d signal to Annie, but she could only make out the glow of fireflies blinking in and out of the hedge like a parched strand of Christmas lights. She dropped onto the floor and huddled in the corner of the room, waiting for her eyes to adjust.

  The moonlight breaking from the window outlined shadows that swayed on the wall opposite her, a particularly ragged one bubbling from the headboard of the room’s sleigh bed. It descended onto the comforter, moving against the breeze. Too late, she threw herself back against the wall as it launched onto her shoulder and pricked the side of her neck. She stifled a scream and rolled into a ball, but it was up and out the window with an indignant mewl before she could cover the back of her head. Her heart pounding, Cap’n scrambled up and poked her head out the window in time to see a black tail disappear in a drainpipe. She grunted in exasperation and stole to the door to peer down the hallway. The house was quiet as the dead.

  Cap’n sat on the top step of the stairwell, rubbing her neck as her eyes adjusted to the poor lighting. When her heart stopped racing, she started downstairs, testing each step before putting her weight on it. Where the stairs turned the corner, she paused to scan the living room. There was no one to be seen, but she could just make out a large red door resting in a frame toward the back. She’d heard about David Abbott’s stage prop. Everyone had. Still, it was a strange thing to keep in the house, she thought.

  Finishing off the remaining steps, she made for the shadows of the living room, only to bump into the edge of a divan, freezing as it scraped across the floor. Flustered, she looked up and into a pair of eyes, gasping even as she realized it was her reflection in a mi
rror. She glanced toward the front of the house. When no one responded to the sound, she knelt down and began to crawl on all fours.

  Rounding the divan, she caught an unnerving whiff of something in the air—a salty, electric tang that almost but didn’t quite register on her tongue—even as the fingertips of her right hand met something cold and sticky. Cap’n settled back on her knees and lifted her splayed hand to her nose, taking a quick sniff. She choked on air, wiping her fingers on her bib, as she caught her first glimpse of the body.

  The reality of it sent her scuttling backward to rest against the divan, her own blood pumping so hard that it made her eardrums throb. She examined the stain surrounding David Abbott’s corpse as the gruesomeness of her task finally began to sink in. It didn’t help that his upper body was framed in blood. There was no way she could make the plant without stepping in the blood and leaving a trail for the police to follow.

  Cap’n sat down, watching a spider scuttle across the bridge of the corpse’s nose and into its mouth.

  An idea squeezed through the din in her head, an idea she wanted to discard, but she didn’t see any alternative. She gritted her teeth, took off both her shoes, and positioned them on the rug close to Abbott’s knees. Then, standing on her toes, she took two mincing steps into the puddle, feeling a slight resistance as she lifted her feet, as if the blood would glue them to the floorboards, given the chance. Blood soaked through her socks, an oily, nauseating sensation. Swallowing bile, she started to squat over the body when a hint of movement brushed across her peripheral vision.

  Cap’n jerked her head around, her eyes settling on David Abbott’s stage prop, when the room began to tilt. Arms gesticulating wildly, she wobbled, just on the verge of catching her balance, before crashing forward to land on the cadaver’s chest with her arms extended in front of her.