Chapter 11

It was quiet in the house.

Off to my left, carpeted stairs led up to the second floor. Piccolo met me at the top, stared as if he wanted something, if not food then attention.

“Hey, Pik,” I said, pausing to scratch behind his ears and listen to him purr. He suffered me for about six seconds before trotting off.

The stillness was absolute. I had grown up with “keep it down” drilled into my head; Gracie and I had not been allowed to forget that we lived in a funeral home, and folks were grieving, and didn’t want to hear kids shouting and carrying on. Over the years, I had grown used to the quiet.

Charlie, I discovered, was not in the kitchen. Had he gone back to the apartment? The thought left me feeling disappointed. After my performance today in the car, why would he hang around? Who could blame him?

Still, I had hoped…