Haunting-Adeline

While my family is small and s ff. My mother has mean cooking skills,
but she lacks the warmth and comfort, and I usually end up going to bed
early and leave in the morning.
“Yep,” I confirm. I roll my lips, contempla ng doing something very
stupid now that I have her on the phone.
“Hey, uh, Mom?”
“Hmm?” she hums, a note of impa ence laced in her tone.
“Can I ask you a few ques ons about Gigi’s murder?”
Daya’s eyes widen almost comically, and she mouths, “What are you
doing?”
She knows as much as I do that Mom might not take well to us
inves ga ng Gigi’s murder. But I have to ask.
She might have some valuable informa on, and ge ng in an argument
with her might be worth it if there’s a possibility of learning something
new.
She sighs. “If it’ll convince you to move out of that place.”
I don’t deign her a response to that, le ng her believe what she wants if
it gets her talking.
“Did you know Grandpa John’s best friend? Frank Seinburg?”
She’s silent for a beat. “I haven’t heard that name in a long me,” she
says. “I didn’t know him personally, but your Nana spoke of him.”
“What did she say about him?”
She sighs. “Just that he was around a lot up un l Gigi was murdered,
then he kind of disappeared.”
I roll my lips. “Do you know about Grandpa John’s gambling habits?" I
push, incapable of keeping the hope out of my tone. Unfortunately, she
detects it.
“Why are you asking, Addie?” she deflects with a red sigh. She’s always
weary when it concerns me.
“Because I’m interested, okay? I met Frank’s son,” I admit. “Mark. He
talked to me about Gigi. He remembered her, and he brought up some
interes ng things about John’s gambling.”
I don’t admit that I’m inves ga ng her case myself. I’d prefer she
assumes that we happened to have a connec on and spoke on it, nothing
more.