“Her light’s still on.”
“She’s a night person, mostly. You rarely have a Cleo sighting before nine a.m. Ten’s more likely.”
“I won’t see her before I leave then.”
“Highly doubtful. Trey, if I start to get up tonight, you know, like before? Will you stop me? I don’t want all that tonight.”
“I’ll keep you here.” He brushed a kiss over her hair. “You haven’t done any of that before when I’ve been here. But you talk in your sleep.”
That brought her head up. “I do? What do I say?”
“I can’t make it out, not yet anyway.”
“I never did that before.”
“How do you know? You’re sleeping.”
Laughing, she cuddled closer, let herself start to drift. “The room Cleo and I shared freshman year was far from palatial. She’d have heard me, and she’d have told me. Plus, as a woman fast approaching thirty, I’ll confess I’ve shared a bed with others. Nobody ever said I talked in my sleep.”
“New then. Connected.”
“Mmm. I don’t want to go through the mirror tonight.”
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, and stayed awake as she slipped into sleep.
* * *
When the clock woke him, she sighed, and turned. He heard her say, “All right. Yes. I’m coming.”
Before she could get up, he gathered her close. “Stay with me tonight.”
She started to shift away again, but he held her. “Just stay with me.”
He thought she said Lizzy or Lissy before she went still.
“She waits.”
“She’ll wait a little longer.”
In the quiet, the piano music floated up. He heard a woman weeping before, somewhere, a door closed.
* * *
In the morning as he dressed, he told her.
“Lissy,” she said. “It must be. Owen Poole remarried just under two years after Agatha, and his oldest daughter was Lisbeth. So, I guess, Lissy. She married and died the same day. It’s listed in the book as multiple bites from a black widow—1916.”
“You remember all that?”
She tapped her temple. “I have the names of all seven dead brides imprinted now, and how and when they died. I still have to read more, but I know that. I’ll get the book back from Cleo, but I’m sure of that name. Lisbeth Anne Poole. I can’t remember the name of who she married.”
“Let’s move, Mooks. Listen, I have this Saturday meeting, but I’ll come back. I’d like to go through the storage areas again.”
“Yeah, I think we should do that.”
“I can pull Owen in for it. More eyes.”
“I’d appreciate it, Trey, I really would. At the same time, I don’t think we’re going to find the mirror until and unless it wants to be found.”
“Whatever it is, it’s an inanimate object.”
“Is it? I’m starting to wonder. Do you have time for coffee before you go?”
“I absolutely have time for coffee.”
He took the coffee, and half a bagel, while the dogs headed outside, headed back in. Mookie wolfed down his breakfast, and Trey was out the door by nine.
Twenty minutes later, Cleo walked in, dressed, day-at-home makeup and hair in place.
“Did you forget it’s Saturday?” Sonya asked.
“No, and while I usually object to being up before ten on any given Saturday, I started a painting last night. I like where it’s going, so I want to give myself the morning to see how far I get. Trey and his faithful hound?”
“Morning meeting, but he’s coming back, maybe with Owen. He wants to go through the storage areas again.”
“Excellent.” Cleo got herself some coffee. “Not only because I want to do the same, but they can haul that chest down to the studio for me. How’d you sleep?”
“I asked Trey to stop me if I tried to get up at the usual hour. I did, and he did. Plus, he said I talk in my sleep.”
“No, you don’t. I’d have heard you.”
“Well, I do now. And last night I told somebody I was coming. And said Lissy.”
“Lissy for Lisbeth?”
“I think it must be. She’s next in line.”
“What did she die of?” Eyes closed, Cleo held up a hand before Sonya could answer. “Wait, I’ll get it. Spider bites!” She stopped, shuddered. “Why do spiders have to have all those legs?”
“Because spiders?”
“Anything over four is just creepy.”