Read Online The Visconti House by Elsbeth Edgar - Free Book Online Page A

with a large plant on it.
    She wondered if it was a day for people to half-open doors and stare at her, and wished she had not come. “Well, can I speak to her?” she said.
    Leon’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
    “Because I want to ask her something.”
    Leon hesitated, then stepped aside. Laura could see that he was uneasy about her coming into the house. He pulled back the curtain and led the way down the hall to a room at the end.
    It was a sort of sun-room, although very little sun was coming through the louver windows, many of which had shelves stacked in front of them. It was long and narrow, and against the wall there was a large table with two chairs drawn up to one end. Mrs. Murphy was sitting in one of them, shelling peas, and Leon had obviously been sitting in the other, doing homework. His books were spread across the table and, despite the chaos, it looked companionable.
    “Hello, Mrs. Murphy,” said Laura, standing stiffly in the doorway.
    Leon shifted some boxes from another chair and moved it next to Laura. “She says she has a question for you,” he told his grandmother.
    Laura was not at all sure that she wanted to ask the question anymore, particularly with Leon looking so sulky, but there was nothing else she could do now so she plunged in.
    “I’ve just been to see Miss McInnes. I wanted to ask her about Mr. Visconti and our house. One of the librarians told me that Miss McInnes might know something about Mr. Visconti but . . . but she didn’t seem very keen to talk to me. I wondered if you could help.” Laura paused, considering how to phrase her request, then continued. “Do you have any suggestions about how I should approach her? I thought maybe you knew her.”
    “And so I do,” answered Mrs. Murphy. “We were in the same grade at school. Used to play together in Mr. Gray’s old quarry on Saturday afternoons. You wouldn’t think it, would you, to see her now. We used to make mud pies in the dirt. She didn’t mind getting grubby then.” Mrs. Murphy chuckled. “The cleanliness came later. Although I must admit, her mother was always on the particular side. Used to get awfully cross with her when she came home with stained clothes and mud all over her shoes. So what do you want from her?”
    “Information about the house. About Mr. Visconti.”
    Mrs. Murphy reached for another handful of peas. “All right, I’ll see what I can do.”
    “I know something,” said Leon unexpectedly.
    Laura turned to him in surprise. “What?”
    “Mr. Visconti is not buried here.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “There’s no grave for him at the cemetery.”
    Laura stared at him. “Maybe he was cremated,” she said crossly. Mr. Visconti belonged to her. Why was Leon so interested?
    “He wouldn’t have been cremated back then, would he, Grandma?”
    “Unlikely,” said Mrs. Murphy. “Him being Italian and probably Catholic and all.” She swept the empty shells into a plastic bag.
    Laura frowned. “Well, how do you know he’s not buried in the cemetery then?” she asked Leon.
    “I looked.”
    Laura’s mouth dropped open. “Why?”
    Leon shrugged. “I was just walking past and thought I’d have a look. See what it said on his gravestone, since we’d been talking about him. But it wasn’t there. It wasn’t anywhere.”
    “There was some talk about why he lived alone,”mused Mrs. Murphy. “I don’t recall what it was — I was only a child — but there was some sort of mystery. A tragedy, I think.” She frowned, as though trying to remember more. “Maybe Janet will know.”
    “Janet?” Laura asked.
    “Janet McInnes. Come back in a few days. I might have some more information then.”
    “Thank you, Mrs. Murphy,” said Laura, getting up. “Thank you very much.”
    “Don’t thank me yet.” Mrs. Murphy smiled as she settled back into her chair. “Wait until I have something for you. Take Laura out the back door, Leon. It’s friendlier.”
    On the back step, Laura and