Read Online The Haunted Heart: Winter by Josh Lanyon - Free Book Online

LAMBREQUIN, THE SIDES WITH CORNUCOPIAE, SCROLLED
BASE, POSSIBLY FRENCH. $200. CASH.
    I refolded the yellowed invoice back into
its four fragile squares and tucked it back into the ledger it had
fallen out of.
    That night when I brushed my teeth, I risked
a couple of cautious, sideways glances at the cabinet mirror. My
own wide-eyed, foaming-mouthed reflection was all that met my
gaze.
    It. Was. Over. Whatever the hell it had
been, it was someone else’s problem now. And serve ‘em right.
    The next day I scrubbed the bathroom from
top to bottom, using a gallon of bleach and giving the mirror
several extra squirts of Windex.
    Maybe Kirk couldn’t feel the difference, but
I could. Especially at night. Yes, I still turned around to look
when the floorboards creaked, and I couldn’t help thinking the hot
water pipes clanked and clanged like they were possessed. I still
occasionally had that weird sense that someone was watching me, but
the heavy oppressive atmosphere was gone. At least the external
heavy oppressive atmosphere. My internal atmosphere…climate
controlled. Which was good enough. Nobody could ask for more than
that.
    Three days passed and I slowly but steadily
worked my way through Uncle Winston’s collection, identifying,
appraising, cataloging.
    I didn’t see Kirk, which was fine with me.
Now and then I heard his god-awful, hopeless attempts at playing
guitar; once in a while the smell of savory cooking infiltrated the
floorboards. I liked knowing he was around, that I wasn’t entirely
by myself, but that was as much company as I required.
    But on the fourth day he rose again. In a
manner of speaking.
    I was going through a stack of old books,
checking and comparing editions on the Advanced Book Exchange, when
a brisk and forceful rap on my front door nearly caused me to knock
my chair over.
    Kirk.
    That surge of…well, it was relief. Relief
because it was obviously Kirk knocking and not a supernatural
manifestation. It was not pleasure, let alone anticipation. It was
just relief.
    I opened the door and caught him running his
hands nervously through his hair. In fact, his hair was standing up
in tufts as though I’d caught him pulling it out by the roots. His
face jerked my way as the door swung open and he said with obvious
relief, “You’re here!”
    “Hi. Yes. Where did you think I was?”
    “I…” He looked so self-conscious and
agitated that even I, not the most observant of others’ feelings,
couldn’t help noticing.
    “Is something wrong?”
    “No. That is, I wasn’t sure you were…up
here. I didn’t hear you.”
    “Huh? Oh . You’ll be happy to know
I’ve been sleeping the last few nights.”
    “You have? You have . That’s good.” Definitely a weird expression on Kirk’s normally dour face.
He continued to hover in my doorway looking sort of pained and sort
of worried and very uncomfortable.
    “Would you like to come in?” I asked
politely, finally.
    He startled me with an instant, “Sure.”
    I stepped back and he walked in, looking
around as though he’d never seen these rooms before. Or maybe he
was looking for something else.
    “Is everything okay?” I asked again. “Would
you like something to drink? I have water and Cup-a-Soup.”
    “Thanks. No. I’m…” Kirk seemed to steel
himself to some unpleasant task. “Your mother called me.”
    My mouth fell open. “That was dirty pool,” I
said at last.
    “She’s concerned.”
    “But I just talked to her the day before
yesterday,” I protested.
    “I know. She mentioned it. Anyway, when I
didn’t hear you up here, I thought maybe I ought to —”
    “Check for the body?”
    He was clearly not amused. I felt a stab of
sympathy for poor Kirk. Plainly this was as excruciating for him as
it was for me.
    “I can imagine. Listen, don’t take any of
that too seriously,” I said, hoping to make it easier on both of
us. “My parents are a little overprotective.”
    He said awkwardly, but doggedly plowing
ahead,