Jessica stared at her mutely. Her aunt had warned her Mrs. Johnson was, in her words, "A strange looking old bird." But that hadn't prepared Jessica for the lady's appearance in person.
Her head resembled a helicopter about to take off with white corkscrew curls sticking out of her maid's cap in a wide circle. And her bright red lips looked like one of those huge wax mouths kids used to buy at the corner store. But her watery blue eyes, half-hidden behind a thick layer of fake eyelashers, were, Jessica noticed, keenly alert, belying a sharp intelligence.
"Can I help you?" asked the odd-looking woman.
Jessica stiffened. Why, she wondered, was she wearing a maid's unform? Surely a woman who'd inherited the mansion so many years ago wouldn't still be wearing one? "I was looking for a Mrs. Johnson, Mrs. Gertrude Johnson." She swallowed hard. "I don't suppose you're her, are you?"
Mrs. Johnson arched a brow. Why was this girl looking at her so strangely? The expression on her face betrayed not only disbelief, but shock as well. But enough of this playing games, she decided. They could go on all night.
Impatiently she opened the door wider to admit her. "Of course I am! But I've got a good mind to tell you I ain't. Didn't your mama ever teach you no manners? It ain't polite to keep ringing doorbells. Why, the way you was sitting on that bell, it was enough to wake the dead."
Jessica's eyes widened at the woman's odd choice of words, and she hesitated. Maybe staying here wasn't such a good idea, after all. But then again, she couldn't leave and disappoint her aunt. She'd promised her she'd stay here, and stay here, she would.
Warily she stepped over the threshhold, then shivered as a blast of ice-cold air assaulted her. She was being watched!
She knew she was. That eerie feeling was even stronger in here than it had been outside. She glanced around. But where was the feeling coming from? Dear God, it was pitch black except for that lone candle beside that old mirror.
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