The House on Tradd Street by Karen White Read Free Book Online

closely, but I looked away again, my gaze falling on the missing bricks on the front steps.
    Sophie was silent again and I began humming “Dancing Queen,” one of the songs I had uploaded onto my iPod the night before, to help block out the sound of the swing.
    “ABBA, Melanie?”
    I ignored her and walked to the opposite end of the piazza, my heels clicking against the cracked marble tiles.
    “Yes! Now I remember!” Sophie jumped out of her chair and came to stand next to me. “It’s something that happened in the late twenties or thirties, I believe. Something to do with a love triangle and a woman running off with a man who wasn’t her husband—but that’s all I remember.”
    “Great. Since you love this stuff so much, I’ll let you research the history of the house and let me know.”
    “Sorry. No can do. This is the beginning of the semester for me and I’m swamped. I’ll be happy to lend you some books, though.”
    “Yippee. Can’t wait.” I moved to the front door, a sudden realization hitting me. “I don’t have a key.”
    The front door opened suddenly, and a woman as wide as she was tall, holding the small black-and-white dog I had seen before on my previous visit, stood in the doorway. “Why are y’all standing out there in this heat? Y’all come on in where it’s cooler.”
    Like obedient soldiers, we marched into the foyer. I stuck out my hand. “I’m Melanie . . .”
    “I know who you are. You’re the spitting image of your grandfather when he was your age.”
    “You knew my grandfather?”
    She looked at me with what only could be described as a scowl. “Of course not. How old do you think I am? Before Mr. Nevin passed, he showed me a picture of his daddy and your granddaddy. I think he told me it was taken on his daddy’s wedding day.”
    “Oh, I’d love to see it. May I?”
    “Sure, honey. Though I don’t think you need to be asking me since you own it now.” She laughed with a surprisingly high, trilling sound made all the more unusual by the fact that it came from such a large body.
    Sophie gave the woman one of her smiles. “I’m Dr. Wallen from the College of Charleston. And you would be . . . ?”
    “Oh, dear me. Where are my manners? I’m Mrs. Houlihan, the housekeeper. And this”—she raised the front paw of the black-and-white dog in a small wave—“is General Lee.”
    “The housekeeper?” I noticed again the thick layer of dust and impressive collections of cobwebs in the chandeliers. At the same time I noted the gleaming wood floors and the absence of cobwebs in any of the ceiling corners.
    As if reading my mind, Mrs. Houlihan said, “Now don’t be jumping to conclusions. According to Mr. Nevin’s wishes, I kept the kitchen and bathrooms sparkling clean, as well as his bedroom and anything else I could clean where I wouldn’t have to touch or move anything. He was worried about damaging some of his antiques, you see. Everything was falling apart, and it wouldn’t take much to ruin something. So it was best to just let things be.”
    I glanced over at Sophie, but she had already marched into the front drawing room.
    “These are the original cypress floors and wall paneling. And look at these cornices! And the carvings in the mantel—totally period Adam. There’s some water damage, but it’s mostly intact.” Her footsteps sounded quickly across the floor, and I followed the sound, Mrs. Houlihan and General Lee close behind me. Sophie was standing by the writing desk that had been pulled out from the wall, her hand touching the burled wood of the drawered cabinet like I would handle a seller’s agreement. “This is English Hepplewhite, isn’t it?” She stood on her toes and peered at the top of the pediment. “A piece like this is worth thirty thousand easy.”
    I eyed the piece of furniture with interest. Even I knew what an English Hepplewhite was. And I couldn’t help but think of the money I could make selling it.
    The little dog