Grave Phantoms by Jenn Bennett Page B

transferred into Mrs. Cushing’s care. The widow who was making a scene, you remember?”
    â€œI do, indeed. Say, you wouldn’t happen to have Mrs. Cushing’s address on file, would you?”
    Her voice fell to a whisper. “We’re not supposed to give it out, but I can probably get back into records after my shift. Won’t be until after nine A.M. , though.”
    â€œWould you? I’d owe you an awfully big favor.”
    â€œI like the sound of that,” she teased. “Oh, I just remembered something. My coworker told me that she had someone come by earlier today and ask about Miss Magnusson. Wanted to know her name.”
    â€œOh really? Who was this person?”
    â€œThe man didn’t say. But don’t worry, she wasn’t stupid enough to give out your address.” It didn’t really matter;the entire city knew where to find the Magnussons and therefore Bo.
    â€œPlease let me know if anyone else asks about Miss Magnusson. And in the meantime, if you can get your hands on Mrs. Cushing’s address, leave me a message at Pier 26, no matter the hour. And I’ll be happy to have someone drop off a little thank-you gift for your effort.”
    â€œI
am
rather fond of gin . . .”
    â€œYour wish is my command, Nurse Sue. Consider it done.”

TEN

    It took a long time for Astrid to fall asleep that night. The potent combination of Greta’s poorly timed interruption and Velma’s herbal tea were enough to give any sane person nightmares, and after she’d left the kitchen, Astrid had lain wide awake in bed, replaying every moment in the pantry with Bo.
    The things he said. How close he’d been. The way he made her feel, all raw and jumbled up. Anxious. Out of control.
    Let’s—
    Let’s what? Let’s throw caution to the wind and run away together? Let’s end this all now? Let’s cool down and discuss this later?
    When it came to Bo, she’d done her share of hoping that he might share her feelings—every day, for weeks and months and years. But before last night, she had hoped in a blind sort of way, taking whatever crumbs Bo dropped and fashioning them into some sort of shaky shelter that only partially kept out the bad weather. Now he’d given her more than crumbs. He’d handed over a few pieces oflumber, and her former lean-to was now transformed into a shack: still leaky, but a strong gust of wind might not instantly blow it over.
    She’d fallen asleep beneath that shelter, wanting him more than ever. And more fearful that if it
did
fall, she’d be crushed under the weight of it.
    No sense in being so nervous, she told herself the next morning. It was only Bo. No matter what happened between them, they were friends, and they would handle it with grace and good humor. Everything was fixable.
    And today Astrid aimed to fix two problems at once.
    After bathing and dressing, she took the birdcage elevator down and found the house abuzz with good cheer. In the foyer, Greta stood on a tall ladder surrounded with giggling maids who were helping to put up Christmas greenery. And even though everyone had already eaten breakfast—except Aida, who was still pale, still possibly pregnant, still trying to hide it from Winter—Astrid was happy to dine alone, and gulped down strong coffee with a slice of rye toast and a soft-boiled egg. Then she went hunting.
    Bo was not on the main floor. And Winter, who carried baby Karin around the foyer to witness the hubbub of the holiday decorating, informed Astrid that his captain hadn’t yet left for work.
    â€œThink he’s going in later, after a couple of errands,” Winter said.
    Excellent. Even better, Bo hadn’t seemed to have informed her brother about their bad night at Gris-Gris. While Winter bounced his smiling daughter in the crook of his big arm, Astrid slipped away and took the servants’ staircase downstairs.
    Halfway