The Haunted Air Read Free Page B

landmarks—he jumped off the BQE onto Astoria Boulevard and turned north, running a seamless gauntlet of row houses.
    â€œIf this Ifasen’s so good,” Jack said, “what’s he doing out here in the sticks?”
    Junie said, “Queens isn’t the sticks!”
    â€œIs to me. Too open. Too much sky. Makes me nervous. Like I’m going to have a panic attack or something.” He swerved the car. “Whoa!”
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Junie cried.
    â€œJust saw a herd of buffalo. Thought they were going to stampede in front of the car. Told you this was the sticks.”
    As the back seat laughed, Gia gave his thigh one of those squeezes.
    They passed a massive Greek Orthodox church but the people passing along the sidewalk out front were dressed in billowy pantaloons and skull caps and saris. Astoria used to be almost exclusively Greek; now it housed sizable Indian, Korean, and Bangladeshi populations. A polyglotopolis.
    They cruised into the commercial district along Ditmars Boulevard where they passed the usual boutiques, nail salons, travel agencies, pet shops, and pharmacies, plus the ubiquitous KFCs, Dunkin Donuts, and McDonald’s, interspersed with gyro, souvlaki, and kabab houses. They passed a Pakistani-Bangladeshi restaurant; its front, like a fair number of others, sported signs written not just in foreign languages but foreign script. The Greek influence was still strong, though—Greek coffee shops, Greek bakeries, even the pizzerias sported the Acropolis or one of the Greek gods on their awnings.
    â€œThere!” Junie cried, leaning forward and pointing through the windshield at a produce shop with a yellow
awning inscribed with English and what looked like Sanskrit. “I recognize that place! Make a right at the corner here.”
    Jack complied and turned into a quiet residential neighborhood. This street was lined with duplexes, a relief from the row houses. A train rumbled along a trestle looming above them.
    â€œHe’s number 735,” Junie said. “You can’t miss it. It’s the only detached single-family home on the block.”
    â€œMight be the only one in Astoria,” Jack said.
    â€œShould be on the right somewhere along—” Her arm lanced ahead again. “Here! Here it is! Awriiight!” Jack heard the slap of a high five somewhere behind him. “Told you I’d get us here!”
    Jack found an empty spot and pulled into the curb.
    Junie was out the door before he’d put the car in PARK. “Come on, guys! Let’s go talk to dead folks!”
    Karyn and Claude piled out, but Jack stayed put. “I think we’ll pass.”
    â€œAw, no,” Junie said, leaning toward the passenger window. “Gia, you’ve got to come meet him. You’ve got to see what he can do!”
    Gia looked at him. “What do you say?”
    Jack lowered his voice. “I know this game. It’s not—”
    â€œYou were a psychic?”
    â€œNo. I just helped one once.”
    â€œGreat! Then you can explain it all afterwards.” She smiled and tugged on his arm. “Come on. This could be fun.”
    â€œFun like that party?” Gia gave him a look so Jack shrugged his acquiescence. “All right. Let’s see if this guy lives up to Junie’s press release.”
    Junie cheered and led Karyn and Claude toward the house while Jack closed up the car. He joined Gia at the curb. He started toward the house but stopped when he saw it.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Gia said.
    He stared at the house. “Look at this place.”

    Jack couldn’t say why, but he immediately disliked the house. It was colonial in shape, with an attached garage, but made of some sort of dark brown stone. It probably looked better during the day. Jack could make out a well-trimmed lawn and impatiens and marigolds in bloom among the foundation plantings along the front porch. But here in the