Part Two

When she reached the living room, she found it empty. The dining room, also, was empty. She laid down her treasures on the table and went in search of her aunt.

She found her in the kitchen, happily eating cheese and crackers.

“Would you like some?” Aunt Hepzibah offered.

Trixie smiled and shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m going to finish bringing these things down and then, maybe, I’ll have a sandwich or something.”

“If that’s what you want,” the old lady answered, with a look that clearly stated her low opinion of sandwiches.

Again, Trixie smiled. Ten minutes later, she dropped into a kitchen chair for a moment’s rest.

“I might have picked out too many things,” she noted. “I’ve put them on the dining table for the moment, but once you’ve seen what I’ve got, I can take back what’s left over.”

“Let’s go and see,” her aunt suggested. “Unless you need your lunch first?”

Trixie shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

When they reached a place from which they could see Trixie’s haul, the old lady let out a cackle of glee.

“Oh, yes! This is just what I need.” She hobbled into the room and touched the long-legged bird. “This fine fellow will look good in the front living room window. Bring that dull, old zebra here and put him in its place on the table under the window.”

Trixie raced to do as she was told.

“Oh, and push the dust off down the back,” her aunt called after her. “We don’t want marks showing where we’ve been.”

Again, Trixie imagined Aunt Alicia’s horror and had to suppress a snort. She shifted the zebra aside and saw the tell-tale rectangular mark in the dust where his base had been. Not wanting to use her hand or her shirt, she went into the kitchen, found a dust cloth, returned to the living room and swiped the cloth across the table. A couple of soft, grey wads of dust tumbled over the back edge and out of sight. She centred the bird and hefted the zebra into her arms.

“What next?” she asked, putting him down at the other end of the table.

“I don’t much like having these scales down here.” The old lady gave them a violent poke, which caused their pans to jangle against their suspending chains. “They make too much noise.”

Trixie moved them to the other end of the table, next to the zebra. “Anything else?”

Hepzibah laughed. “I see you left my fertility idol where he was.”

“Was that the little man with the big …” Trixie waved vaguely in front of herself.

“Yes, that’s him. It’s probably just as well. I got tired of all the men who thought they could convince me he was an accurate depiction of them.” She looked away and grinned. “Besides, he never worked for me. The only fertile thing about me is my imagination. But I’d have liked to see the look on Alicia’s face.”

Trixie giggled. “That’s what I thought, too.”

“Ah, now this is something I’d like to have on display.” She ran her hands over a carved stone hippopotamus. “I wondered where he’d gotten off to. Find a place for him on those shelves over there. That Japanese doll can go away; I’m tired of her.”

Dust cloth in hand, Trixie made the trade.

“And clear that whole next shelf and put these bowls there instead.” She nodded approval. “That will make a nice change in here.”

The process went on, all around the house, until all of the items Trixie had brought down except the scales had replaced some other item.

“It all looks great,” Trixie commented, when she realised that they were finished. “You have such a flair for decorating. I just plonk things wherever and hope for the best.”

Her aunt waved a dismissive hand. “They’re just interesting things. They look good no matter what you do to them.” She frowned. “You never did have that sandwich. Go and fix yourself something now.”

“I am hungry, now that you mention it.” She cast a look at the pile of odds and ends. “I’ll be as quick as I can and then I’ll put all these things away.”

Hepzibah shook her head. “Take as long as you want. I’m going to sit by the front window and watch the world go by. It’s nearly time for a certain young man to jog past – he does, every day.”

Trixie smiled, returned to the kitchen and put the dust cloth away. She spent a few moments contemplating the contents of the fridge, then fixed herself a sandwich and a glass of water. As she sat at the kitchen table eating, she thought she heard the sound of movement somewhere else in the house.

“What is she up to?” she murmured to herself.

The answer to the question was not all that important. So long as Aunt Hepzibah was happy and didn’t need her help, Trixie had no intention of interfering. She glanced at the time and wondered when Aunt Alicia would be back. Whenever that would be, the fun would also end.

Trixie reflected for a moment on how much she was enjoying her day. Soon, however, her mind strayed to the graffiti she had seen earlier and the possible identity of the unknown woman. She began to wonder, too, why someone would keep bringing the matter up after what must have been many years. If it had been going on for the elderly grocer’s whole life, surely the murderer must have died by now?

Her lunch finished and the mess cleaned away, she set out to look for the old lady and find out what she wanted done next. She sat, just as she had said, in the chair nearest the front living room window. Everything in the room looked just the same as the last time that Trixie had been here.

“Has your jogger been past?” Trixie asked, with a smile.

Hepzibah grinned. “Yes. You’ve missed him. Though, I know for a fact that he’s forty-three, which you probably still think is old.”

She didn’t say so, but Trixie did think forty-three was old.

“Now, what else do we need to do before Alicia comes back and spoils all our fun?” the old lady wondered aloud, making Trixie giggle at the resonance between their thoughts. “I know. I’ll teach you how to make a kind of spicy stew I like. It takes a good few hours to cook and it doesn’t matter if you leave it an hour or two longer. Then, Alicia can eat whenever she gets here and she can’t make me eat lettuce, or celery, or any of those other things she was going on about.”

“Sounds good,” Trixie answered.

She helped her aunt to her feet and they went to the kitchen together.

“Starting to feel a little sore,” the old lady mentioned. “I think I might just sit and leave you to do the work.”

Trixie smiled. “That’s why I’m here. Now, what do I do first?”

“Open the pantry and I’ll tell you what you need.”

For the next half-hour, Hepzibah directed Trixie through the making of the stew. The kitchen filled with delicious savoury aromas. Trixie lowered the heat, gave the pot a stir and set its lid on.

“Now, we leave it for a while,” the old lady told her. “Come back and stir it every now and again. I think I’ll go up and have a rest.”

“Do you need my help?” Trixie asked, eyeing her aunt with concern.

For a moment, she seemed about to refuse, then she nodded. “It might be a good idea.”

Together, they made their way upstairs, taking plenty of time and stopping to rest once or twice. Trixie helped her into bed, closed the curtains and fetched her a fresh glass of water.

“Off you go and stop fussing,” said Hepzibah, pulling the covers up to her chin. “And make sure you call me when it’s nearly time to eat. We’ll make some flat bread to go with the stew.”

“Sounds good,” Trixie answered. “Have a good rest.”

She returned downstairs, stirred the stew and began to look around for something to do. In the dining room, she discovered that she had never taken the leftover items back to the attic. She took a few trips to do so, making sure to tread softly and to keep on remembering to stir the pot in between trips.

On the last trip, she peeked once more into the box with the photograph, but it told her nothing new. She sighed and returned to the kitchen. Seeing that all was well there, she gazed out the window for a few moments, while wondering what to do next. All at once, she realised that something was going on outside.

A young man slunk across the back yard, peering this way and that as he walked. He had something in his hand, but Trixie could not make out what it was. As he disappeared around the corner of the house, Trixie raced to find another window to keep him in sight.

When she found one, she saw, to her horror, that he held an aerosol paint can and was in the act of spray-painting something on the front of the house. She threw the window open.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

The man dropped the can in surprise. He looked at Trixie for a moment, mouth open, then turned and ran back in the direction from which he had arrived.

She tore through the house and threw open the back door. The man was in the process of climbing the back fence.

“Hey! Stop!”

He struggled to get over the barrier, putting on a burst of frantic movement to get away from her. He stumbled as he landed on the other side and tried to recover his balance as he ran. Just as she reached the fence herself, he disappeared into the house beyond.

For a long moment, Trixie stood and stared after him. Shaking her head, she walked around the front and saw ‘WHO I’ written in black across the white paint. Touching it, she found it had already dried, except for a drip or two at the bottom. Scowling, she re-entered the house.

“Trixie!” she heard a faint voice calling.

“Coming!”

She made sure the back door was closed properly, then raced up the stairs.

“What’s going on?” Aunt Hepzibah asked, from her bed. “Who were you yelling at?”

“I saw a man sneaking through the yard,” Trixie admitted, “and then I caught him painting graffiti on the front of the house. I followed him when he ran away and he went into the house behind here. It was already almost dry by the time I got back.”

The old lady sighed. “How far did he get this time?”

“All of ‘Who’ and the first stroke on the K.” Trixie took a breath. “It was on the building across the street from the grocery store this morning. Who was Lily White?”

“Nobody knows.” Hepzibah closed her eyes for a moment. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like it cleaned off right away. There’s some supplies in a box under the sink.”

“You’re not going to call the police?”

She shook her head. “Against my own neighbours? Not a chance. I have to live here, you know.”

“But why is he doing this?” Trixie persisted. “And why can’t you do something to stop him?”

“Please, just get it cleared off. Before Alicia gets back. The last thing I need is the likes of her sticking her nose into my business. It’ll be worse than the celery!”

Trixie nodded and went to see what she could do. She stirred the stew, which she had forgotten all about in the excitement, and was relieved to find that no harm had come to it in the meantime. Then, she found the box of cleaning supplies and went out the front to try to clean off the mess.

It was hard work. Every so often, she took a break and returned to the kitchen. The sun began to sink in the sky. The worst of the spray paint came off, but it left a dark shadow in every little crack or divot. At last, she could do no more.

She looked at the time and decided to go and get her aunt. She stashed the supplies back where she had found them and washed her hands. The stew smelled delicious and her stomach growled.

“Well, I’ve done the best I can,” she told her aunt, a few minutes later, “but I think it needs to be painted over to make it completely go away.”

The old lady sighed. “It always does.”

“Does it happen often?” Trixie asked, as she helped her out of bed.

Hepzibah shrugged. “It comes and goes. It’s been a year or more since the last time. But I don’t want to talk about that.”

Trixie sighed in frustration, but did not argue. They were halfway down the stairs when her phone rang.

“Well, aren’t you going to answer that?”

They both stopped and Trixie took the call.

“Hello?”

“Finally!” her Aunt Alicia uttered, in place of a greeting. “Where have you been?”

With a start, Trixie realised that she had put down her phone sometime before chasing the man and had only just picked it up again before coming upstairs. It never even occurred to her, between the various things she was trying to achieve, to check for missed calls.

“Sorry. I had to go outside for something.”

“For two hours?” She huffed. “Never mind. I need you to pick up some groceries. I’m still an hour away and there’s hardly a thing to eat in the house.”

“Oh. But I’ve already cooked,” Trixie answered. “We’re going to eat soon, but there’ll be plenty for you when you get here.”

“But Trixie! How can you possibly have made something? There were almost no vegetables!”

Thinking back to the big pile of vegetables she had cut up and cooked, Trixie considered this to be a gross exaggeration.

“We found enough,” she answered. “Now, I really need to go, Aunt Alicia. I’ll see you in about an hour.”

“Let me guess: she wanted you to go out and buy some lettuce!”

Trixie laughed. “Probably. But I’ll be happy with what we’ve got. It smells great. I just hope I’ve done your recipe justice.”

Under Hepzibah’s direction, Trixie made the flat bread and cooked it in a hot pan. She served out the thick stew onto brown earthenware plates with high sides, almost like wide bowls, and sprinkled the top with torn up parsley from the window-box. They sat at the kitchen table together to eat.

“Mmm.” Trixie closed her eyes in appreciation. “This is delicious. Where did you learn to make it?”

“Oh, it’s not from anywhere particular,” the old lady explained. “I picked up a bit here and a bit there and mixed it all together to suit myself. It’s got influences from all over the world, really. It’s a good way to spend your time, if you’re not tied down, travelling from place to place as the fancy takes you. You learn all kinds of useful things.”

“Maybe I’ll do that one day,” Trixie mused, before taking another mouthful. “There sure isn’t much tying me down.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You’re close to your family. You’d miss them, if you went away.”

Trixie considered that for a moment. “Yes. But not so much that I’d want to come back. I don’t see them that often, as it is. But what about your family? Did you miss them when you travelled?”

The old lady looked misty-eyed as she stared at the wall and shrugged. “Didn’t really think about it at the time. Home was dull and my father was an old stick-in-the-mud and my mother was an insubstantial little thing – hardly here at all. My brother was a bit of a disgrace to the family, but he came good before he died. My sister didn’t live past the age of twelve – she took after our mother, really. No, there wasn’t much here for me, or so I thought. Didn’t give family a thought, really, until it was too late.”

“Sorry.” All of a sudden, Trixie wished she had said nothing.

Hepzibah shook her head. “Nonsense. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Now, if you’re finished, you might add just a little water to the pot so it doesn’t get too dry.”

Trixie did as requested, then helped Aunt Hepzibah up the stairs again.

“It’s been a good day,” the old lady commented, as Trixie tucked her into bed. “Tomorrow, we might do some baking. I’ve a hankering for some Greek shortbread.”

“Mmm. Sounds good,” Trixie answered. “Do you need anything else right now?”

Hepzibah shook her head. “Just a good night’s rest, I think. Oh, it’s terrible to be old. Just look at me, in bed at this hour! But old beats the alternative.” She shivered. “Oh, yes. I’d much rather be alive and old, than dead in my grave.”

Trixie nodded and bid her goodnight. Outside the door, she shuddered at the look that had been on the old woman’s face.

More than half an hour later, her Aunt Alicia returned. Hearing the car, Trixie opened the door for her and ushered her into the house.

“How was your trip?” she asked.

“Adequate,” Alicia replied. “I was in plenty of time. It was a lovely service. I spoke to several people I hadn’t seen in years. And the return journey was smooth enough.”

“Aunt Hepzibah’s already gone to bed. But she showed me how to make her special stew and it’s keeping warm for you. Do you want to eat in the kitchen?”

“She was supposed to be resting! Trixie! What were you thinking of, letting her come downstairs?”

“She’s not that badly hurt,” Trixie argued. “And she can’t just lie around all day. And I did all the work, so it’s not like she did it herself.”

Her aunt huffed, but went to wash her hands. She joined Trixie in the kitchen a short time later and accepted the plate of stew and a piece of flat bread.

“It needs a nice salad to go with it,” the older woman grumbled, “but it’s pleasant enough. You did a good job, considering what you had to work with.”

“Thanks,” Trixie answered, though she felt the compliment rather back-handed.

“I see you haven’t finished the dusting. That will need to be done in the morning. And whatever happened about the washing?”

“Some other things came up,” Trixie answered, wondering whether to admit to the graffiti. “I just had to do the most important things at the time.”

Alicia nodded, but seemed unconvinced. After a pause, she asked, “What arrangements did your mother make with you for the next few days?”

“None. There wasn’t time.” Trixie glanced at the time and wondered whether she should call her mother back. It occurred to her that she should have done that earlier.

“Well, then. What commitments do you have over the next few days?”

Trixie tried not to be intimidated by the look of expectancy on her aunt’s face and wracked her brains for the answer. Today is Friday, right? she asked herself. I had that dentist’s appointment on Tuesday, but I don’t mind cancelling it. I was kind of planning on finding someone to meet up with tomorrow, but that’s out, now. Monday’s free, I think – I was going to run some errands and pick up some new library books. I wonder if I can extend the old ones? I don’t think I had plans for Sunday. And I don’t think I’d thought as far as Wednesday.

“I don’t think I’ve got anything I can’t get out of,” she answered, at length. “How long do you want me to stay?”

“I imagine that someone will need to be on call twenty-four hours a day until Aunt Hepzibah is fully recovered. That may take some weeks.”

“I can’t stay for weeks,” Trixie answered, trying to hide her alarm. “At least, not the whole time.”

“No, of course not. But neither can I.”

For the first time, it occurred to Trixie that this situation was also inconvenient to Aunt Alicia. This should have been moderately obvious, considering that her aunt had spent twelve hours that day just on travelling for and attending a funeral.

“Well, how about if we call Moms now and divide the time up between us?” she asked.

Without waiting for an answer, she picked up her phone and made the call. It was answered by her mother after only a few rings.

“How did you go?” Helen asked, as soon as she heard Trixie’s voice. “Have you had a good day?”

“Yes, thanks. It was busy, but nothing I couldn’t handle.” She felt the urge to confide a few of the details, but restrained herself while they had an audience. “But Aunt Alicia’s back and she’s wondering how we’re going to divide up the time. You’ve got a busy weekend, haven’t you?”

Her mother sighed. “Yes, I do. We’re all set up – as far as we can be in advance – but I need to be at the bazaar before daybreak tomorrow. We’ll be hard at work all day, and then the evening we’ll spend packing up; half of Sunday, as well.”

“And then you’ll need a day off,” Trixie suggested.

“Oh, no. If you need me, I’ll be there on Monday morning, first thing.”

Trixie made a decision, without consulting her aunt. “No, Moms. I’m sure we’ll manage. I can definitely stay here on Monday.”

“If you’re sure…” She paused, perhaps to yawn. “Thank you, Trixie. That would be very helpful. Tell Alicia that I’ll take over from you on Tuesday morning and I’ll stay at least until Friday and probably longer.”

“Okay.” She quickly conferred the message and her aunt nodded approval. “That’s okay with us. You’d better get some sleep. I’ll call you in a couple of days to check in.”

They said their goodbyes and ended the call.

“Okay, that’s settled,” Trixie commented, dropping the phone onto the table. “If you need to go, it will be okay. I can stay until Tuesday morning, when Moms gets here. And we can sort out next weekend closer to the time.”

“I can’t just leave you here alone,” Aunt Alicia objected. “Just look at how little you got done alone here today!”

Trixie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I actually got plenty done; it just wasn’t the same things you expected me to do. And anyway, I thought you had plans?”

Her aunt sighed breathily. “I had intended to attend a wedding tomorrow, and a christening on Sunday. I also am expected back to work on Monday morning, but I am able to extend my leave in case of emergency.”

“I don’t think this counts.” She smiled. “I’ll be fine. And you shouldn’t miss all of those things when I’m free to help.”

“It would be rather disappointing to miss the wedding,” Alicia admitted.

“Then, you should go.” A bright idea occurred to her. “If you really think I need someone, I could find someone else to come and stay with me.”

At once, her aunt looked disapproving. “This is no place to bring your young man!”

Trixie bit her tongue, desperately trying to hold in the rude reply that suggestion provoked in her. “I don’t have a ‘young man’,” she informed her, once sure her temper was back under control. “And I was actually thinking of my friend Honey. You remember her: she’s the one whose needlework you admired.”

“She would be a suitable person,” she admitted, only slightly mollified. “However, I was distinctly given to understand that you did have a young man. I believe his name to be Paul?”

She gritted her teeth, reining in her temper once more. “Well, that’s all over three months ago. I’m sure Moms told you.”

“She mentioned something of a disagreement.”

At this, Trixie could not help but roll her eyes. “He got insanely jealous because I visited Jim while he was in hospital, decided to ‘put me in my place’ by locking me in a closet and, when I escaped, had the temerity to be offended when I said I didn’t want to see him ever again. And we’d only been dating six weeks! He turned out to be a nut-case!”

“Perhaps that is not the most suitable kind of young man.”

Wanting to leave the whole, terrible subject behind, she glanced at the time and asked, “When will you have to leave tomorrow?”

Her aunt calculated for a few moments. “It’s an afternoon wedding, so around eight o’clock will be sufficient.”

Trixie breathed an inward sigh of relief. No one could reasonably expect her to dust the whole house between now and the time her aunt had to go.

“Well, I’ll talk things over with Aunt Hepzibah in the morning.” She hesitated a moment, then added, “You look a little tired. Maybe you’d like to go to bed early.”

“That is an extremely sensible idea,” the older woman replied, in a weary voice. “I will see you in the morning.”

“Good night,” Trixie answered.

Alone in the kitchen a few minutes later, she began on the clean-up. As she washed the dishes and put them away, her mind wandered over the events of the day. She had nearly finished when her phone began to ring. With a jolt of delight, she remembered that, since it was Friday, she should have been expecting a call from Honey, as soon as her little son was asleep. A quick glance told her that this was it.

“Hey, Honey,” she greeted, as she clattered the forks back into place and shoved the drawer shut.

“Where are you?” her friend asked.

Trixie’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know I’m not home?”

Her best friend laughed. “Elementary, my dear former Schoolgirl Shamus. You don’t have drawers that sound like that. That was an old-fashioned wooden drawer; your kitchen drawers are modern ones, with runners. They make a completely different sound.”

“Okay. I admit it. Moms called me at four this morning and asked me to help take care of a kind of honorary aunt of hers, who’s had a fall. I’m about two hours from home.” By this time, she had walked into the living room and sunk into an arm chair. “Hey, what do you think about coming out and staying, too? I’ll have to ask Aunt Hepzibah in the morning – I think she’s asleep right now – but Aunt Alicia is leaving in the morning and apparently I’m not competent to look after her by myself.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Honey answered. “It might be a good time, seeing Dan’s away right now, but I’m not sure.”

Trixie groaned. “Where is he, this time?”

“Boston. Until Wednesday. Another one of those so-called emergencies.” She sighed. “He’s looking for something else. We’re both so sick of the way this company treats him.”

“That’s terrible. And it’s such a short time since the last last-minute trip.” She brightened. “But Wednesday is perfect. Moms is taking over from me on Tuesday morning sometime. You can come here and help me solve the mystery and then be home in time to meet Dan.”

“And what about Elijah?” she asked, referring to her baby son. “What am I supposed to do with him?”

“Bring him with you, of course!” She looked around, thinking. “Okay, so it might be a little difficult–”

“A little!”

“– but just think of it: you and me, a mystery to solve and Aunt Alicia won’t be back until after Moms has been here a few days, so we won’t have to do any dusting.”

Honey laughed.

“And I’ve already learned some interesting things from Aunt Hepzibah. I think you’ll like her.”

“I’m sure I will, but that doesn’t make it any easier to travel with a baby.”

Trixie sighed. “Well, I guess I could just solve the mystery by myself, but it sounded like such a good idea to have you here, too.”

“Fine! Okay! If your aunt says it’s okay, I’ll come. But you have to explain to her that I’ll be bringing a baby.”

“Yeah, of course I will. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“Does she even like children?” Honey asked, still sounding sceptical.

“No idea.” She thought about their conversations that day. “I don’t think she hates them or anything. She stayed friends with my grandmother when she had children, which is a good start.”

“I don’t suppose there’s anywhere else to stay in town? Where is it, by the way?”

“The town’s called Barclay. According to the sign I passed, population 53, but I don’t believe it.” She gave some vague directions, which Honey completely failed to comprehend. “I don’t remember seeing anywhere to stay, but I’ll ask in the morning and call you back. Oh! And I’ll need you to run a couple of errands for me, if you can.”

“What sort of errands?” Honey asked, sounding resigned.

“Return my library books and pick up all the things I forgot and bring them with you,” Trixie answered, grinning. “I know I don’t have enough clothes. I’m sure there’ll be something else.”

“I don’t know that I’ll be able to get everything you forgot,” Honey teased, “but I’ll try. If I’m coming, that is.”

“I’m sure you will. Just think: it’s been ages since we solved a mystery together. We’ve gotten really out of practice.”

Honey sighed. “I didn’t mean to abandon you. Life just happened.”

At once, Trixie regretted her words. “You didn’t abandon me at all. And just because it’s been a while doesn’t mean it will be any harder. It’s like falling off a bicycle.”

Honey laughed. “Talk about mixed metaphors! Isn’t that supposed to be like riding a bicycle?”

“You remember how to fall off, don’t you?” Trixie pulled her knees up to her chin and leaned on them. “And it is kind of like getting right back on the horse after you fall off. It’s high time we did a little mystery solving.”

“So, what is this mystery?” Honey wanted to know. “You keep teasing me with it, but you never said what it was all about.”

Trixie launched into an account of her day, including the graffiti, the church and the spray-painting neighbour.

“Sounds interesting,” Honey commented, when she was finished. “But if your aunt doesn’t want this mystery solved, how are we going to solve it without bothering her – because I’m not going to accept her hospitality, if that’s what I end up doing, and at the same time go against her wishes.”

“That is a kind of a problem,” Trixie answered. “And I’m going to need to talk to her in the morning. But I’m thinking it’s not the mystery she doesn’t want solved; it’s the trouble with the neighbours that she doesn’t want stirred up. Which is different.”

“Only marginally.” She went on without allowing a contradiction. “But I suppose it’s enough. And now, I think I need to go. Let me know in the morning what your aunt says.”

“Of course.”

“Good night, Trixie.”

“Good night,” she echoed. “Sweet dreams.”

Honey giggled and hung up.

For a long moment, Trixie gazed at her phone, filled with a strange wistfulness. In spite of her earlier words, she did sometimes feel like Honey had abandoned her. Not that she blamed her best friend, or Dan, for the situation. Romance just hadn’t ever gone well for Trixie. She truly was happy for them, she reasoned. It was more herself that she was unhappy for.

Shaking off the darker mood, she set to putting the house to rights before bed and it was at this point that she remembered that she never had brought in her overnight bag. She turned on the outside light and jogged down the front stairs. On the second-last one, she froze.

“Who’s there?” she called, peering into the inky shadows on either side of her.

No one answered, but a moment later, a dark shadow detached itself from the larger one to her left. The shadow resolved itself into a black cat, which rubbed against the post at the bottom of the stairs in a sinuous manner. Silently, it slipped in and out of sight.

Trixie breathed a small sigh of relief and continued her journey. The cat rubbed against her leg, almost tripping her up.

“Hey! Stop that!”

Like all cats everywhere, it did not deign to obey her, but repeated the trick.

“If I land on you, you’ll be sorry,” she warned.

She retrieved her bag and carried it back to the house. The cat seemed to have completely disappeared. Trixie locked the front door and turned off the lights.

Her next task was to find where she was supposed to sleep. In hindsight, this might have been a good thing to establish a little earlier, but she knew the house well enough to know that it included several bedrooms. She knew which one Aunt Hepzibah slept in, so she had only to find where Aunt Alicia was and choose somewhere else.

She climbed the stairs and did a quick tour of that floor. One bedroom’s door was closed and she deduced this one to be Alicia’s room. Of the two that remained, one had a slightly musty smell. On inspection, she found that the bed was not made up, but only covered in a quilt. The other room’s bed had fresh sheets and every surface had been meticulously dusted – which could only be the work of Aunt Alicia.

Trixie dropped her bag on the floor and started getting ready for bed. She wandered back and forth between the bathroom and the bedroom, feeling the pull of sleep, in spite of it not really being bedtime yet. After cleaning her teeth, she wandered back into the other spare bedroom on a hunch.

First, she examined the quilt, which was old and hand-made. A peek into the closet and under the bed revealed that both places were empty. The old dressing table’s drawers were all empty except for one. In that, Trixie’s suspicions were partially confirmed by its contents: a bundle of letters to Hepzibah from Nell, a lace-edged handkerchief exactly like one that her mother kept tucked away in a drawer and a framed family portrait of Trixie’s grandparents, mother and Aunt Alicia. This might have been her grandmother’s room, when she stayed in the house. And since Trixie’s grandmother was long-dead, that explained the unoccupied feeling in the room.

She returned to the room made up for her and wondered whether it might have been the other friend’s or if her aunt had taken that one. There did not seem to be any clues – no personal items, or photographs – and since Trixie knew nothing of the other friend other than that her first name was Lena, there did not seem much she could deduce. She vowed to check the other room as soon as Aunt Alicia was out of the way.

Yawning widely, Trixie let go of the train of thought and, switching off the light, climbed into bed. Just as she was making herself comfortable and feeling ready to drop off to sleep, a noise somewhere in or near the house caused her to sit up straight.

For a moment, Trixie listened carefully, wondering whether the vandal might have returned. Another small noise came to her and she jumped back out of bed. She walked in bare feet to the head of the stairs, listening carefully. Silence reigned in the old house.

She turned to go back to bed, but had not taken more than two steps before twin bumps sounded somewhere downstairs.

“Oh, no! That cat!”

Trixie groped along the wall, trying to find the light switch, eventually finding it and throwing a pool of light onto the stairs. The cat was nowhere in sight.

Grumbling under her breath, she stomped down the stairs and began switching on lights everywhere. The kitchen, the living and dining rooms all seemed to be devoid of cats, black or otherwise. The back sitting room, which Trixie had only entered briefly while rearranging ornaments earlier, had its door closed, for which she was thankful. The other room on this floor was a kind of office, containing an enormous old desk piled with papers, a few bookshelves and a couple of old, wooden filing cabinets. It had no room for knick-knacks and so Trixie had not done more than peek inside earlier, but the door was ajar just far enough to admit a cat and so she stepped in.

She peered under the desk and at the tops of all the furniture, but could not find the cat. As she leaned down to look at the bottom shelf, her elbow caught against a pile of books and papers on the corner of the desk and down they came with a crash.

For a long moment, Trixie stared down at the mess, cursing her own carelessness and wondering what to do next. She had no desire to pry into her honorary-aunt’s business, but she also could not possibly leave things as they were. Shaking her head at the dilemma, she bent down and began gathering everything back together again as quickly as possible.

“Whatever do you think you are doing?” her Aunt Alicia demanded, just as she was nearly finished. “I thought I had made it clear that I wanted to retire early – and, of course, Aunt Hepzibah needs her sleep as well – and besides, you have no business being in this room at all.”

“It was an accident,” Trixie explained, beginning with the end of the story and working her way backwards. “I came in here to look for the cat, but I knocked these things over and I couldn’t just leave them on the floor.”

“What cat? There is no cat. What are you talking about?”

“I think it got in when I went out to the car to get my bag,” she continued. “Only, I didn’t realise until after I got into bed.”

“Are you telling me, Trixie, that you have let a stray cat in the house?”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Trixie shook her head. “It’s someone’s pet. A tame cat. It’s small and black. It rubbed against my legs.”

“And so you let it inside.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Regardless, it is in and will have to be removed immediately.”

Trixie held in another expression of her exasperation with this whole conversation. “That’s what I was trying to do. Only, I have to find it first and it’s hiding.”

“Well, come along. No time to waste.”

“As soon as I finish putting this back,” she answered, adding the handful she still held to the top of the stack and bending down to gather up a few stragglers.

That completed, the two of them searched that room and, finding it clear of cats, closed the door fully. Then came the search of the rest of the rooms on that level.

Half an hour later, her aunt called a halt.

“Are you certain the animal is inside the house? I have seen no sign of it at all.”

“I heard it. Three times.” She sighed, frustrated both with the cat and with her aunt. “And it could be anywhere in the house by now, not just on this level.”

“If it is on any of the beds, I will be very displeased,” Alicia announced. “Very displeased indeed.”

“Well, I think I’ll go to my bed,” Trixie decided. “Maybe it will turn up in the morning.”

“First, we shall check the bedrooms.”

This time, Trixie really did roll her eyes, but she waited for her aunt to turn her back. She trailed after her up the stairs and along the corridor. Her own room, the spare one and Aunt Alicia’s proved to be mercifully cat-free.

“I shall just look in on Aunt Hepzibah,” Alicia whispered. “You shall wait here.”

Trixie scowled at her aunt’s retreating back.

“What in the name of all that’s holy have you two been doing down there?” Aunt Hepzibah enquired, amusement more than evident in her voice. “You sounded like a herd of wildebeest. And I have experience with herds of quite a few kinds of wildlife and know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Aunt Hepzibah,” Alicia began, “but we were looking for – oh!”

“This cat?” The old lady laughed. “He’s been here since right after I heard you go down.”

“I’m so sorry. I’ll remove it–”

“Nonsense! I like him. He’s called Ebenezer and he lives next door.”

“But it’s unsanitary–”

“Nonsense!” Aunt Hepzibah repeated. “Very clean animals, cats. And this one’s had all his worm treatments and so on. He’s fine. Go to bed, Alicia, and let me have my rest.”

“I am very sorry to have disturbed you.”

The old voice softened. “Good night, Alicia.”

“Good night, aunt.”

Trixie hastily straightened her face as her mother’s sister approached.

“You had best close your door,” Alicia advised as she gently led the way down the hall. “It is not really healthy to have cats in the bedroom.”

They parted at Alicia’s door, which she firmly closed behind herself, still looking rather outraged. Trixie returned to her own room, leaving the door open, and sank into bed. For a few minutes, she reflected on the events of the evening, but soon her long day caught up with her and she slept.

Continue to part three.

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