Haunting Melody (33 page)

“Yowzer. She truly is a witch. I’m still not
sure if she’s a good one or a bad one, but it looks like we owe her
for getting us together, so I’d have to lean on the side of good.
Okay. Jump back to your arrival in this century. Narrative only.
Neither of us needs to do any more time jumping. So, you were
housed and fed in Memphis? When did you get to New York and why
didn’t you tell me you were here?”

“Apparently this whole time-travel thing
isn’t logical. Not that it’s logical anyway but it doesn’t seem to
correlate with the time one spends in an alternate time. If that
makes sense?”

“Sure. I was in 1919 for three weeks yet it
was the same night I left that I got back. I’m getting a headache
even trying to figure that one out. So?”

“I stayed in Memphis about a month and tried
to find out where you were without alarming anyone down there. I
got up to speed on the 21st Century in a hurry thanks to Nevin and
his buddies who had great fun searching that Internet gizmo trying
to discover the current whereabouts of Melody Flynn. Not to mention
the guys also helped falsify a few personal records I needed to
live without getting hauled into jailed in this era. They also
discovered you'd recently moved from another apartment in Greenwich
Village."

“You must have landed in Memphis about three
weeks before I was having all the ghost stuff happening here. The
first time around.”

He looked confused. “Ghost stuff?”

“Don’t ask. It still confuses me - and I
lived it. Go on.”

“Well, I decided to come up and see if I
could find you. I got to New York a couple of nights ago when I
remembered you’d said something about the rooming house being in
the same spot as your apartment. I came by and didn’t see Flynn
name listed on the mailboxes. Or Fiona Belle’s either.”

“New York. Apparently supers are notorious
for not putting new tenants names up until years have passed.
Sorry, I’m interrupting again.”

He leaned over and kissed me. “Interrupt all
you like. The rest is simple. I started jogging around the
neighborhood late at all hours. I thought if you were anywhere near
here you might see me. Crazy.”

“Not so crazy. It worked.”

I sat straight up. “My God! Briley, I saw you
and Duffy a couple of nights ago. Three weeks ago in 1919 time.
Forget that. Let’s just say the night I met Fiona Belle. You were
jogging with the pup and I watched y’all in the rain. I felt drawn
to you even then.”

“It appears you were meant to travel back in
time to meet me. It’s all a circle.”

I grimaced. “That’s why Fiona Belle gave me
the song "Circle of Life" from The Lion King. Wanted to prove that
point. Little stinker.”

“We should see if we can find her. We do owe
her thanks for getting us together. Besides, I’d love some real
answers about all this time traveling business.”

“I’ve tried knocking on her apartment door
all day. No luck so far. There’s not a sound coming from inside
either.”

He checked his watch. “Four a.m. Isn’t that
the time you told me you first met her?”

“It is.”

We left the dogs in the apartment, sleeping
soundly flopped all over each other. We headed downstairs and
knocked on Apartment 313. Loudly. Repeatedly. No answer. I tried
the doorknob. It opened. Briley and I entered the apartment without
shame.

“Gone.”

“What?”

“Everything. Fiona Belle’s entire kitchen.
The Elvis memorabilia. The furniture. The Warhols and the Degas.
The show posters. The Egyptian bust of King Tut. Her table dripping
with bacon for Lucy. Everything. What could have happened?”

I was near tears. Briley held me for a moment
then inhaled sharply. He let me go and scooped up something that
had been neatly placed on the counter of what had been the kitchen.
A framed picture.

We left the dark apartment and stood under
the light in the hall. I peered over Briley’s shoulder and we both
stared down at the photo in a silver frame.

Twelve young ladies were posed around a large
staircase on a stage. I knew them very well. I’d danced with these
girls only days ago. Mary De Luca sat on one of the steps, smiling
shyly into the camera. Saree Goldman sat one step below her,
laughing. Standing to Saree’s right was a tall, “exotic-looking”
redhead named Melody Flynn. The picture showed her gazing off into
the wings, sending waves of love toward a man who stared back at
her.

The photograph was labeled. “The Thirteenth
Edition Ziegfeld Follies. June 1919.”

A cranberry stain dotted the top corner.

###

Flo Fitzpatrick is a multi-published author
of romantic suspense,

paranormal romance and mystery, plus numerous
short stories and

non-fiction articles. Her 2005 Kensington
release, Hot Stuff was nominated by RTBookReviews for Best Romantic
Suspense and is currently under option for film.

Flo's background includes a Masters in Theate
and Bachelor of Fine Arts in Dance. When she’s not writing (or
giving online workshops), she’s teaching Dance and Theatre.

Discover other titles by Flo
Fitzpatrick at
http://www.amazon.com

Official website:
www.flofitzpatrick.com

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