Free The Haunting of Anna McAlister by Jerome Harrison

was laughing. “Very funny, guys.”
    “We just wanted to make Chuck comfortable,” Jeffrey laughed harder.  
    “It was all his idea,” Duncan threw his hands in the air.
    “Just leave my Tom and his Chuck alone,” Anna said. “They’re both mine.”
    Anna gently ran her hand over Tom’s behind.
    “Can I do that?” Jeffrey asked hopefully.
    “No!” Both Anna and Tom said at exactly the same time.  
    Jeffrey moved somewhat unsteadily toward the kitchen for another bloody Mary. “Tom, you are such a homophobe.”  
    As he walked by, he stopped, turned, smacked his lips and stared at Tom’s behind. “And for very good reason I might add.”
    “Jeffrey, stop, now.” Anna could feel Tom getting angry. His limit had been reached.  
    “But . . .”
    “No buts.”
    “Well, what do you have to say about that, Chuck?”  
    Jeffrey gave Tom’s bottom a pat and a squeeze. Tom spun around and pushed Jeffrey away, hard.  
    “That’s it! I’m out of here! I’ll wait in the car.”  
    Before Anna could say anything to stop him, Tom stormed out of the door. He was too angry to wait for the elevator and took the stairs instead. Anna could hear him muttering, “Fucking assholes,” under his breath as he slammed the stairway door behind him.
    * * *
    “Gee,” Jeffrey said innocently. “I wonder what got into him?”
    “Don’t Jeffrey,” Anna said.
    “Certainly not me. Although it could be fun.”
    “Jeffrey, how many bloody Marys have you had?
    Jeffrey held up three fingers and said “Six . . . or so.”
    Duncan pulled Jeffrey to the couch and forced him to sit.
    “I however had only one,” Duncan said as he sat next to Jeffrey and motioned for Anna to sit in a big overstuffed chair. “Now before our friend here causes any more trouble, I understand we have some work to do.”
    “Thank you, Duncan,” Anna said. She glared angrily at Jeffrey and pulled the letter from her purse.

 
    Chapter 9
     
    Jeffrey passed out on the couch and Duncan started to read:
    “Dear Mademoiselle McAlister,
    Forgive me for writing in French, I hope this does not present a problem.”
    Anna rolled her eyes. She thought of Tom fuming in the car and looked at Jeffrey zonked on the couch. She shook her head, and thought, No, of course not. No fucking problem at all.  
    As promised, Duncan’s mastery of French was impressive. He read and translated the letter faster then Anna could read straight English. She found this mildly annoying, but then again she often found many of the things Duncan did to be mildly annoying. Besides she had more important things on her mind.  
    Duncan paused and sipped his bloody Mary before continuing to read.  
    “Regarding the history of the music box collection which you most recently purchased, I am afraid I can only offer only a small amount of information, and even that is incomplete.”
    “Shit,” Anna slammed her fist onto the arm of the chair.
    “Shush,” Duncan was more than somewhat irritated at the interruption and the assault on his furniture. “His small amount of incomplete information goes on for another page if you’re interested. Would you like me to continue, or have you heard enough?”
    “No, I’m sorry,” Anna said while thinking, Jeffrey’s right, he really can be a bitch.  
    “Do go on.”
    “No more interruptions.”
    “Promise.”
    “Fine then.” Duncan cleared his throat.
    “The music boxes were collected by a woman named Ariene LaMoreau. I know little of her early life. I do know that she lived as an adult in Paris in the early 1920’s. Some of the boxes themselves are much older. It is believed that some first belonged to Mademoiselle LaMoreau’s maternal grandmother, Madam Michelle Tremont. She received others as birthday and holiday gifts, or as tokens of affection from male admirers.  
    “ As a point of information, various experts here in France set the value of the boxes at over 7,000 Euros, so you received, as you Americans say, a