Faye laughed at herself. “Neither of them was. But I’m a stubborn ghost.”
“I find you delightful. Let me see if I have a story about thieving… I remember my best pal Colm who tempted me to steal a sweetie from Sweeny’s Shop. He said that he would distract Old Man Sweeny, and I was to take a twisty – these were twisted pieces of hard candy mounted on a stick, similar to the suckers they have here. But in my day, nothing was wrapped. They were just stuck in a jar on the counter. I remember they were red and green or green and white, depending on Sweeny’s mood when he made them.
“I was so nervous. When I was alive and I got nervous, my hands sweated, and by the time we reached the store, I was positively dripping. Sweeny was a big fella and was known to break some bones in fights. I could only imagine what he would do to me if he caught me stealing from him. But a dare was a dare. Colm walked over to the glass case that held the chocolates and asked Sweeny about what was in each one of them, buying me time. I reached my hand up, laying it over the twisties, and at that moment, I fought a war of conscience. I decided that no dare was worth being manhandled by Sweeny. I withdrew my hand, but all the twisties came with me. They were stuck to my sweaty hand.
“I tried to get them off. My other hand was sweaty, so I just transferred the sweets from hand to hand. I even tried sticking my hands under my arms to pull the damn candy off. But, Fair Faye, if you’re a boy with sweaty hands, your body is sweaty too. Colm figured that enough time had passed and turned around to leave, and he stopped dead. There I was, standing with sweeties stuck to my hands and armpits. My face and hair were covered in twisties too. Sweeny bellowed, ‘What in Christ are you about, boy!’”
“All I could manage was, ‘A little help here, I’ve been attacked by your vicious treats.’ Sweeny’s stern look vanished and he started laughing. Colm laughed too. I just waved my arms around, sweets and sticks stuck to me like feathers.”
Faye laughed along with Jon.
“That cured me of my thieving ways. Until the day I left for America, Sweeny would call out when he saw me, ‘There goes that twisty boy!’”
Blue Daniel popped into the room. “We need to move higher. The Italians are coming up the stairs.”
“They never come up the stairs,” Jon said drifting upwards, pulling Faye along with him.
“They were afraid of Atwater. He’s locked in the safe. They aren’t afraid anymore,” Blue Daniel said as he moved up with them. They found themselves in the old servants’ quarters. The high windows let in a little moonlight, but they kept to the shadows.
“Faye, you’re going to have to warn your builders,” Jon said.
“No,” Blue Daniel said. “Our builders.”
“How crazy are they?” Faye asked.
“They tried to kill…”
“Tried or did?” Faye asked.
“Tried.”
“Can you interpret?”
“Between Daniel and me we can understand them.”
“Let them talk to Cid,” Faye said. “I’ll bring him right away.”
Faye appeared in front of Cid as he was exiting the carriage house.
“Faye! You gave me a scare.”
“You’re needed at the house. You need to talk to the crazy ones. You have a way with words.”
Jesse walked out of the darkness and said, “Not without me.”
“They could kill us,” Cid warned.
“They could have killed us all along. They just enjoyed scaring us,” Jesse said. “I know bullies when I see them.”
Cid and Jesse walked to the house. Faye disappeared and reappeared at the front door. Jon and Blue Daniel stood at her side.
“I have an idea,” Cid said. “Follow my lead.” Cid walked from the hall into the main living room and patted the carved white marble fireplace surround. “Excuse me, I would like to speak with the artist who carved this magnificent fireplace.”
Jon repeated Cid’s words.
A large burly ghost appeared next to the fireplace.
“Complimenti per il lavoro svolto,” Cid said in Italian, surprising Jesse and Faye.
Jon whispered to Faye, “He said congratulations on a job well done.”
“Come?”
“He asked, how?” Jon continued to translate. “I thought you needed us to help him.”
Faye hunched her shoulders. “He must have studied up. He is a genius, probably picked most of it up on the internet.”
The workman explained his technique to Cid using many hand gestures.
“Tu chi sei?”
“Salvatore Piccirilli.”
“Piccirilli? Lo sai Giuseppe Piccirilli?”
“Mio Cugino.”
Cid turned to the others and said, “His cousin was Giuseppe Piccirilli. Giuseppe had six sons. His sons are renowned stone carvers who immigrated to New York in the late 1800s.”
“Guiseppe, mio cugino. Ferruccio, Attilio, Furio, Masaniello, Orazio, e Getulio, mio secondo cugini.”
Jon translated, “Guiseppe is Salvatore’s first cousin. His sons are his second cousins.”
Salvatore put a hand on his head and waved his hand back and forth and said something to Cid.
“He said his soul is in his work. The house, however, is making him crazy. He knows he’s dead, but he needs to breathe fresh air,” Cid said.
“Tell him we’ll find a way to release him and his brethren from this house,” Jesse said. “I’m sorry, money or no money, this isn’t right.”
“Where is monster?” Salvatore asked in stilted English.
“Locked away in the safe,” Jesse said.
Jon translated.
Salvatore fired off an explanation which took Cid, Jon and Blue Daniel
