Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Zachary had gleaned that bit of knowledge from Marcy Hannity, but even Marcy—possessed as she seemed to be with an uncanny knowledge of all that went on within the auspices of Casper Road—didn’t know anything more about Mrs. Lundy. Or if she did, she wasn’t sharing it.
“Well, what does Mrs. Lundy say about them?”
Zachary blinked.
“What?”
Bram’s expression was open, and he narrowed his eyes.
“I mean, did you ever ask her?”
“No.”
“Come on.”
Zachary’s body was torn by ambivalence. He only had eleven minutes until it was time to start work and he still needed to make his tea.
But he had been curious about Mrs. Lundy for six years.
“I have to work,” he began.
Bram just raised an eyebrow and snapped his fingers behind him. The dog trotted over and licked his hand.
“Your call,” Bram said. “You wanna go solve a mystery, Hem?”
The dog yipped and Bram stuffed his whittling gloves in the back pocket of his jeans.
“Later, Zachary.”
And he loped off down Casper Road, dog at his side.
Zachary turned to go back inside his house and complete his morning routine. A dynamic morning routine was an integral part of setting up the day for success.
But he snuck one more glance at the man and the pull was so strong he couldn’t resist.
“Wait up,” he called, and jogged a few steps to walk on Bram’s other side.
“Yay,” Bram said, like a child whose friend has agreed to go on an adventure.
“So, solve another mystery for me,” Bram said.
“What’s that?”
“Well, the mail comes at around 4:00 p.m. usually. Why do you get yours the next morning?”
Zachary cringed yet again at the thought that his routine was being so closely observed. See, this was why he didn’t like that Bram got up early.
As if he sensed Zachary’s irritation, Bram said, “It’s none of my business. Sorry. My family always says I’m too nosy.” He paused for a few steps and then continued. “I don’t mean to be nosy, really. I’m just really curious about people. I like to know why different people do different things.”
Zachary certainly believed that, given the task they were currently engaged in.
Bram’s genuine curiosity was disarming, and Zachary found himself telling the truth.
“I like to have a routine that supports my morning momentum. I’ve found that going outside is helpful, and I like to have somewhere to go. When there’s mail, it gives me something to look forward to because I let myself open it as a reward when I’m done with work for the day.”
He set his shoulders, bracing for the inevitable comments. But Bram just nodded, accepting the answer frictionlessly.
Mrs. Lundy’s house was the last house on Casper Road—or the first, Zachary supposed. An ugly brick box from the sixties, it looked heavy and boring from the front.
The piles of stones and sticks seemed to appear like magic. Certainly Zachary had never seen Mrs. Lundy constructing them, and he didn’t get the sense anyone else had either.
Suddenly, Zachary had the creeping sense that they’d wandered into a horror movie. It would be revealed that there was no Mrs. Lundy. That the piles of stones and sticks birthed themselves on the locations of each person Mrs. Lundy’s ghost drained of life force to stay haunting this hideous sixties minimalism.
He giggled at the idea.
“What?” Bram asked, as if he’d welcome the chance to be included in a joke.
“Nothing. Just imagining that this would make a really good start to a horror movie.”
“Well, at least I would live,” Bram said seriously. “Because I’m a virgin.”
Zachary blinked, torn between surprise at Bram’s comment and surprise that he knew that trope if he didn’t watch horror movies.
The latter was more interesting.
“I thought you didn’t watch horror movies?” Zachary asked.
“I might’ve googled after your impassioned speech.”
Zachary was touched.
“It’s interesting. Maybe we could watch one sometime and you can tell me about all the tropes. But not a super-scary one,” he said intently.
This had taken an unexpected turn and he didn’t know what to think about it.
“We could do that,” Zachary murmured.
From the lace-swathed front window a voice issued, startling them both.
“Are you boys going to stand there casing the joint or are you going to knock on my door?”
Zachary’s mouth fell open.
“Mrs. Lundy,” he whispered to Bram, as if confronted with a celebrity or a ghost.
“Get over here,” she said, and the front door swung open.
Zachary wished he could say it creaked or that her voice sounded like wind rushing through a graveyard, or something picturesque. But the front door swung open just fine and Mrs. Lundy’s voice was surprisingly youthful.
“Let me guess,” she said, still in the shadows. “You’ve come to tell me I won the lottery.”
Zachary smiled but a look of horror crossed Bram’s face.
“Oh no. No, ma’am, I’m so sorry. That’s not—”
“Don’t hurt yourself, young man. That was a joke.”
Bram turned red and spluttered. Zachary had never liked him more.