“If you’re needed upstairs, I can leave. We can—”

The thud that interrupted me made us both jump. We stood, but though I was frozen, Evie raced past me, muttering, “Oh no. Oh no.”

Seemed I’d become invisible. But like my cats, I felt that mysterious and ominous noises must be investigated. So I gave her a few seconds and followed.

Once I was back in the foyer, I caught a glimpse of a coral blur at the top of the stairs. Before I tackled the steps, the shoes had to go. I might already have developed blisters on both heels anyway.

Cursed shoes in hand, I took the stairs two at time as quietly as possible, making that first ninety-degree turn and then climbing about ten more steps to the first landing. But when I saw several people, including Evie, at the end of the hall to my right, I stepped back onto the step so I wouldn’t be spotted. Peeking past the wall, I saw a silver-haired woman in a blue chenille bathrobe sitting on the floor. Evie knelt by the woman’s side, holding her hand, and an older lady in gray slacks and a white pleated shirt stood above them.

I heard the one with the slacks say, “She was trying to get downstairs.”

Evie looked up at the speaker. “How did that happen, Augusta? You’re supposed to stay with her.”

“And when I am supposed to use the ladies’?” Augusta said.

But Evie didn’t seem to be listening. She was murmuring something I couldn’t make out to the woman on the floor—the woman I recognized from photos I’d seen on the Internet: Ritaestelle Longworth.

“I’m fine, Evie. But I’m not deaf. I heard the doorbell, heard George talking to someone in the foyer. I want to go downstairs and—” She turned her gaze from Evie and looked straight at me.

I ducked back behind the wall, but too late.

“There she is,” I heard Miss Longworth say.