Edith and Effie WC: 297

Edith and Effie
WC 297

A dusty, oddly shaped bottle with a shriveled cork stopper sits in the middle of the kitchen table. My sister, Edith—ever the detective--
is examining the label with her trusty magnifying glass.

“What in the world, Edith?”

“It’s a bottle, Effie!”

“I can see that. It was a figure of speech.”

Edith continued her examination.

“Where did you find it?”

“I found it in the attic.”

The attic has been off-limits since we were children. We are now in our 60s.

“The attic?”

“They've been gone forever, Effie. What's the harm?”

After a bit, I said, “None, I guess.”

“It’s poison!”

“It's what?”

“Effie, turn up your hearing aid, for Pete’s sake!”

“I heard you, Edith.”

“That's not all I found...”

There are generations' worth of discard up there.

“Like what?”

“A human skeleton. A man. I think. It's still up there. I didn't touch it. Him.”

What a pickle we’re in! A dead body in our attic. Everyone else who has lived here is gone. What to do?

“Well, Edith, we didn't put the skeleton up there!”

“A dead body...that turned into a skeleton.”

I never smelled anything out of the ordinary. Years ago, Father found that dead raccoon up there…

“The raccoon!" I said. "Only it wasn't a raccoon."

“Oh my, what do we do?” my sister said.

“Let's make a pact. Whoever’s left will never sell. After we're both gone, the police will find it. Of course, there will be gossip, but we’ll be six feet under."

“Could it be Reverend Granger?” Edith wouldn’t let it go. “He was sweet on Mother—"

“Guess we'll never know,” I said, interrupting, and put the magnifying glass back in the junk drawer.

“Tea, Edith?”

“Sounds divine, Effie.”