The Inn - James Patterson Page 0,36
outside the house.”
Effie stared at Angelica, munching her cookie, totally unrattled by her tirade. The rat finished its treat and started cleaning its ears.
“If it bites one of us, it could give us rabies!” Angelica cried.
“Perhaps we could have the rat seen by a veterinarian?” I suggested. “Given a little flea bath, maybe?”
“You can’t be serious. This is beyond belief!” Angelica cried. “Rats are not pets! They’re vermin!”
“Is it likely to bite anyone?” I asked Effie. “I mean, it’s something to consider. Why is it so tame?”
Effie shrugged again. She made a chopping motion at her neck, which was quite startling, given the huge scar running across her throat. She used her thumb and forefinger to indicate a small amount, an inch, and then tapped her forehead.
“Die … almost … when you almost die, you … go crazy?”
Effie nodded. Pointed to her chest, tapped her forehead, tapped the rat’s head.
“You’re crazy. The rat’s crazy,” I translated.
Effie nodded, winked at me. Angelica gave a growl of frustration and stormed away. I sat beside Effie and looked at the rat. I reached slowly toward it with my index finger, and the creature took my finger in its small pink hands, gave my fingernail a gentle, experimental nibble, then turned back to cleaning its ears, apparently having decided that I was inedible. I gave the little rat a stroke on the head. Effie was watching me, smiling.
“I guess we can make one exception to the no-pets rule,” I said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
SUSAN FOUND ME in the kitchen picking dried sauce off one of Siobhan’s old recipe cards. She must have sensed my desperation, because she came and put a hand on my shoulder, then took the card from my hand.
“You look stressed,” she said.
“Siobhan used to make this lasagna,” I said. “It was Marn’s favorite. I’m going to make it tonight, try to cheer the kid up a bit.”
“I thought I saw Marni leaving just before.” Susan pointed to the back door.
“Oh. She might have gone for a walk. She’ll definitely be here for dinner. We’re going to have a talk. Decide some things about her future.” I took the card and frowned at it. “I’m trying to get my head out of the sand and take some responsibility for that kid. She needs guidance.” I found my phone and sent Marni a quick text asking where she was.
“Well, this recipe’s not much to go on.” Susan laughed. “It just lists ingredients. There are no amounts.”
“Siobhan was a bit of a creative chef.” I sighed.
“Let me help.” Susan took a big chef’s knife from the block on the counter. “I may be old-school Bureau but that doesn’t mean I’m not creative.”
She took an onion from the basket on the counter and started peeling it. I hesitated by her side, paralyzed with guilt.
“You know,” she said, “you can ask for help around here. I know you’ve got Effie doing the chores, but I’ve been feeling like there’s stuff I could be doing. Things I’m good at.” She was turning the onion into tiny, impossibly perfect squares with the speed and precision of a machine.
“Well, it’s not your responsibility.” I looked away. “I mean, you’re just a resident.”
“Just a resident.” She rolled her eyes. “If you think we’re all just residents here, you’ve lost your mind.”
I poured us a couple of glasses of wine and turned the radio on. The sun had set, leaving a stripe of purple light on the ocean. I caught my reflection in the window above the sink and I realized that even with the horror of what Clay had told me that evening and despite the way my skin burned over Cline’s words and my heart sank with thoughts of Siobhan and how Marni needed her, I was smiling. Smiling with an unfamiliar but welcome sense of hope.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Susan said suddenly. She put the knife down, reached into her pocket, and brought out a brass doorknob. I took it and sighed.
“You too? Why are they all giving up at once?”
“I don’t know.” She laughed. “Maybe the ghost on the stairs is doing it.”
“You’ve heard the ghost on the stairs as well, huh?”
“Yeah.” She went back to her work. “You probably can’t hear it down in your scary basement. Seriously, Bill, you ought to move up to the loft. That room is so pretty. I can’t understand why you keep it locked up.”
“I can’t understand why you won’t tell me what’s going on with you and Effie,” I said. “What