“Clem had not been wearing blinders when he sunk his hundred thousand into the deal, and he was, in Grady’s words, no fool, but I told Grady to pay him off and be done with it. As for Patsy, if she wanted money, just give it to her. She did want money and he would give it to her.

“In closing, I asked Grady if Patsy was having any success at all with her music. He replied that she was very successful of late with the good clubs, playing House of Blues all over the country. Her album was selling about three hundred thousand copies. But that’s nothing compared to the million copies she longed to sell, and which she needed to sell to attain the fame she wanted. She had simply overestimated her name-brand appeal with this video she had made. It had been a little too soon for her.

“I didn’t dare to ask directly about her health. I put it simply: ‘Have you recently seen her?’

“ ‘Yes,’ said Grady. ‘She was just on Austin City Limits. She’s as pretty as ever. Your mother has always been a pretty gal. I’m old enough to say that much, don’t you think?’

“ ‘Yes, sir,’ I said.

“And so back at home, Patsy was still being Patsy.

“Now that I have said all the above—dispatching all subjects pertaining to this period—let me return to the matter of Pompeii.

“Of course I was eager to see the ruins, but I couldn’t forget the spell which Petronia had cast over me when she had come to Blackwood Manor, and Aunt Queen had thoughts of her own about it, though they were far less alarmist than mine. We had discussed Petronia but only with some strain, Aunt Queen not quite forgiving me for my denouncing of Petronia and not quite believing that Petronia wasn’t human and that Petronia had dumped two bodies in the swamp.

“As for me, I believed everything, and I wanted to see if the ruins of Pompeii—the excavations of an entire city once buried under ash and rubble—would bring to mind the images which Petronia had planted in my mind.

“I wasn’t finished with Petronia.

“Back at home the renovations of the Hermitage were being completed to the tune of hundreds of thousands of dollars, and packets of color photographs had come to me revealing the stunning little house. Its interior rafters had been boldly gilded, Oriental rugs from my catalog collection were scattered over its shining marble and I had even ordered some ornate furnishings for it by long-distance from Hurwitz Mintz, in New Orleans. The place now sported velvet sofas and torchère lamps. It had a cluster of swan-backed chairs. All the comforts were connected in its spacious bathroom. Its new glass windows were kept shining clean.