Page 78 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

This isn’t even the first cursed object I’ve collected this week. The more I break, the more that land in my lap. There shouldn’t be so many. We need to figure out this uptick of supernatural phenomena before things really start getting out of hand.

As I cross the street and head towards Sam’s office, my phone rings. Gingerly moving the lunch box to one hand, I dig my phone out of my jacket pocket and glance at the screen. I’m surprised to find it’s Tristan calling me.

“Tristan,” I say by way of greeting.

“Hi, Harrison.” His voice is subdued, and a sigh comes through the line. “I just wanted to say sorry for being a bit of a dick when you stopped by the other day.”

“There’s no need.”

“There kinda is. You were just trying to be nice and I was…not.”

“It’s understandable. Tristan, you lost your dad. No one expects you to be okay. I’d be inconsolable if it was one of my dads.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that. You were right though. About what you said.”

“Not an unusual occurrence, but to which part are you referring?”

“The bit about the person who probably killed Viv wanting to use her blood to open the demon trap in the bookshop.”

“Oh.” I came to that conclusion some time ago, but I’m glad the others are finally catching up.

“I went to see Evangeline, you know, the ghost who haunts the shop? Cornelius Crawshanks’ niece.”

“And?”

“She says that Cordelia gave birth to a daughter while she was locked up in that asylum. And that daughter was taken away from her just like her son was.”

“I see,” I reply vaguely. I can’t really tell him I already know all of this because of weird and horrifying dreams.

“Danny is trying to track down that daughter’s family tree. But since it’s pretty much agreed that Viv’s murderer probably has some connection to the Crawshanks family, we’re thinking they might be a descendant of that little girl.”

“It’s possible,” I mutter.

“Anyway, we’re going to follow up on it after the funeral tomorrow. You are coming, right?”

His voice wobbles, and my heart softens with a wave of sympathy. “Of course I will, Tristan.”

“Okay, thanks.” He releases a breath. “You got the details from Chan?”

“I did. I’ll be there.”

“Okay, okay,” he mutters to himself.

“Tristan, it’ll be alright,” I tell him gently as I come to a stop outside the building where Sam’s office is.

“I know, I’m just…” He pauses, and his voice drops to a whisper. “It just came around so fast. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

“We never are, but you know better than anyone that he’s in a good place. He’s with your mum, and one day you’ll get to see him again.”

“Yeah,” he says sadly. “Anyway, I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I reply as he hangs up.

Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I let myself in the main entrance and head up to the floor Sam’s on.

“Come in,” he calls out when I knock gently on the frosted glass door panel, which has Sam Stone, PI printed on it in black lettering.

“You know that door is very cliché,” I say as I walk into the room.