She felt wretched about keeping Kathleen up so late, knowing she would be up again by five to get breakfast for the boarders and start on the ironing. Thank goodness the laundress, Mrs. Kantor, was here again today to help. If this investigation into the Framptons went on much longer, Annie would have to either stop bringing Kathleen with her, which would break the girl’s heart, or hire some additional help. She certainly couldn’t foist any additional work on Beatrice.
This morning Annie had felt guilty when she saw the dark circles under Kathleen’s eyes, but the truth was she had been afraid to be left alone with Nate for any length of time last night. She’d felt too shaken and vulnerable, and she knew from experience that in that frame of mind she would either throw herself into his arms in tears or pick a fight with him. With Kathleen present, she had reasoned, neither would happen.
At the time she hadn’t taken Kathleen’s suggestion that the note was from a jealous Arabella very seriously. She had merely been glad of an excuse to deflect Nate from his argument that the note proved that the Framptons had discovered the connection between Mrs. Fuller and Madam Sibyl, a line of thinking that led inevitably to him insisting that Annie shouldn’t attend any more séances.
However, as she thought about the note again this morning, she wondered if there was any truth to Kathleen’s reading of the situation. She wasn’t vain enough to think that she offered any real competition to Arabella. The look on Nate’s face last evening when Mrs. Frampton came into the hallway confirmed what Annie already knew: no man was immune to the medium’s beauty. Nevertheless, Annie had enough experience with human nature to recognize that insecurity can strike anybody, particularly a woman in her thirties facing the inevitable effects of time. Annie was younger and more similar in background to Simon than was his wife, and that might indeed explain the hostility she had felt from Arabella from the start.
Having turned onto Market, Annie saw she was almost to the entrance of the restaurant, and she began to wonder what she was going to say to Miss Pinehurst. Nate wanted her to say that she was giving up the investigation, and once Kathleen told Esther and Beatrice about the note, they would probably concur. On the other hand, despite the note and her dismal lack of progress, Annie just didn’t feel she could give up yet.
Montaigne’s, with its prime location across from the Palace Hotel at the corner of Kearney and Market, catered to a lunch crowd of local businessmen from the Montgomery Street financial district and women taking a break from shopping at the City of Paris department store. In the evening, it attracted the theater-going audience. At four in the afternoon, however, the restaurant was practically deserted. Annie had never been here before, its prices, even for a midday meal, were far above her financial resources, and she was curious to see what ‘all the fuss was about,’ as Beatrice would say.
The dark, paneled ceilings and crystal chandeliers, soft Brussels carpeting, tables featuring white linen and gleaming silverware, upholstered chairs, and silent waiters in black, formal attire all whispered elegance, and Annie was swept back to a time when her father took her to Delmonico’s on 14th Street in New York for her birthday lunches. Montaigne’s headwaiter interrupted this reverie. He smiled warmly when she murmured “Miss Pinehurst” and escorted her to a small dining room off the main room, which in the evening would be for special parties.
At this time of day the room seemed the exclusive domain of her boarder. Walking over to where Miss Pinehurst sat, she noticed that the exquisite tailoring of the older woman’s dark-burgundy silk and the stunning, black-onyx brooch pinned to the lace at her throat perfectly matched the elegance and good taste of the restaurant. As the waiter removed her coat, Annie thought how fortunate she hadn’t worn the brown polonaise; the black silk, no matter how old, was much more appropriate to her surroundings.
Miss Pinehurst measured out a tiny smile, then nodded to the large, leather-bound menu on the table, saying, “I hope you don’t mind if I have my dinner while we talk. This is the only time I have to eat until the restaurant closes at midnight. Do feel free to order for yourself, as my guest.”
“Miss Pinehurst, thank you, but I dined earlier. A pot of tea and perhaps some bread and cheese would be lovely.”
When Annie saw the rich strips of sirloin on Miss Pinehurst’s plate, and tasted her own aged Camembert, she understood why Miss Pinehurst seldom ate at the boarding house. Beatrice was an excellent cook, but Annie couldn’t afford to serve this quality of food and keep her boarding charges at a reasonable rate.
Miss Pinehurst cut up a small piece of meat, then looked over at Annie and said, “So, Mrs. Fuller, what have you learned? Is there anything I can use to convince my sister the Framptons are frauds?”
“I am sorry, Miss Pinehurst, I don’t have anything definite. However, I do have a few avenues I would like to pursue further,” said Annie.
She went on to tell Miss Pinehurst about getting the reporter, Pierce, to do some more background checks, the possibility of contacting Judge Babcock’s sister, and her suspicions about the coordinated use of music and lights from the room above the séance.
“I am trying to find out if there is any time when the Framptons are out of the house when I might get access to the séance room to figure out how some of the tricks are played. I still believe our best chance of success rests with getting the Framptons to conjure up the ghost of my alleged son, Johnny. So far they have produced the spirits of my mother and my father. I have asked for a special sitting with the young medium, Evie May, tomorrow afternoon, when I hope that Johnny will appear.”
Miss Pinehurst, who had been steadily eating throughout this recital, put down her fork, neatly wiped her mouth, and gave Annie a hard stare. “So you do agree that this Arabella is just a trickster?”
“I do, Miss Pinehurst. She is a clever actress, with a broad range of accents, but I heard her say nothing that demonstrated any supernatural knowledge. She merely parroted back to me what she had learned from me about my father, and, in fact, she completely misread my father’s character when she tried to speak for him.”
“What of the girl? The one that Sukie sits with in that infernal cabinet? The one she says turns into our Charlie?” Miss Pinehurst’s voice cracked with emotion.
Annie hesitated, taking a sip of her tea to buy time.
“Evie May is another matter; she actually seems to change her physical appearance. I have seen her shift from a young woman, who Judge Babcock believes is the reincarnation of the daughter who died twenty-five years ago, to a woman the age my mother was when she died, and again to a six-year old girl.” Annie stopped speaking, discomforted anew by her memory of Maybelle.
Miss Pinehurst burst forth. “Mrs. Fuller, you aren’t saying you believe that child is possessed?”
“No, I believe that Simon Frampton has discovered a young girl with remarkable natural acting talent, and he is shaping her into a lucrative source of income, just as he did twenty years ago with his own wife. However, if I did believe that the dead could take possession of the living, Evie May would be terribly convincing.”
“Such wickedness to use a young child like that.” Miss Pinehurst shifted angrily in her chair.
“I agree, and I would very much like to know how Simon Frampton is doing it. I suspect his abilities as a mesmerist might play a role. I have read about people being put into a trance and acting as if they were younger or older. Perhaps this is what he does to Evie May. In any event, if tomorrow he has her play the role of Johnny, I still believe this might be enough to convince your sister. If they will risk it. You see, there is a possibility that the Framptons have developed some suspicions about my motives.”
Annie then told her about the note, and Nate’s concern that it might mean that the Framptons had found out about her living in the same house as Madam Sibyl, or worse, being Madam Sibyl herself. She said, “I knew that was a risk, but it might just as well be someone else in the household or in the séance circle who sees me as some sort of a threa
t. I will know better if they let me have the planned sitting with Evie May.”
Seeing the droop in Miss Pinehurst’s usually stiff shoulders, Annie tried to offer the older woman some hope, saying, “Listen, even if I should be denied access to the séances or Evie May, that doesn’t mean the end of it. There is still the Judge’s sister. And there are several others, relatives of members of the circle, who might have similar concerns and would be amenable to joining forces. It would help if we could find out who wrote the letter to the police saying that the Framptons were blackmailing her. Then we could get a criminal investigation going.”
“Blackmail? You think that the Framptons might be blackmailers? I didn’t want to believe . . .” Here Miss Pinehurst stopped and put the napkin to her lips as if to stifle further comment.”
“Miss Pinehurst, what do you mean? You must be honest with me, if I am to help you.”
Miss Pinehurst closed her eyes as if in prayer and began to describe a conversation she had Sunday night with her sister’s husband. He had taken her aside after dinner to tell her that Sukie was expecting, but he feared for his unborn child’s life. “He said that when the doctor informed them of the good news, instead of rejoicing as he had hoped she would, Sukie had appeared distressed. She told her husband when she had first confided to Charlie that she might be going to have another child, he had seemed very happy. But then he said this would mean that someday soon that he would have a new little brother or sister as his very own playmate in Summerland. Sukie has interpreted that to mean that this new child won’t live very long either.”
“Good heavens, Miss Pinehurst, that is awful. Why ever would the Framptons suggest that to her?”
“I don’t know that it is the Framptons doing. Sukie is so angry with her husband for refusing to come with her to the séances, she has decided Charlie is lonely, and that is why he wants the new baby to join him. It’s sinful. God has blessed her with another chance at a child, and she has turned her back on that child. But that is Sukie. From the day she was born, all she has ever thought of is herself. She would mope around and refuse to eat if she didn’t get her own way. Mother indulged her, and when she died, Father was even worse. I suppose I was no better. I felt so sorry for her losing our mother at such a young an age. I was working full time, first in the store to help out father, and then as a waitress, trying to put food on the table after father died. As a result, I had little time for her.”
Miss Pinehurst paused, then continued. “When she met Arnold Vetch, she was only seventeen. I was against the match because he didn’t seem strong-willed enough to handle her tantrums. But there was nothing I could do. She wanted Arnold Vetch, so she got Arnold Vetch.
“Then Charlie was born, and for a while everything was all right. Sukie was happy, she was even able to share her happiness with me. I know I will never have a home, a husband, or a child of my own, but every Sunday night, sitting with Charlie in my lap, reading to him, it was somehow enough.”
Annie watched as a tear slid down Miss Pinehurst’s cheek, and she had to fight to hold back her own tears in response. Shaking her head to regain control, she said, “Miss Pinehurst, I am so sorry. For you and your sister and brother-in-law. But I don’t understand how this relates to blackmail.”
The waiter came into the room just at this point to remove Miss Pinehurst’s dishes and pour her another cup of coffee. Annie turned down another pot of tea and watched as the interlude gave Miss Pinehurst the chance to pull herself together.
“Mrs. Fuller,” Miss Pinehurst began calmly, once the waiter was gone, “my brother-in-law was so disturbed by what Sukie had told him, that he went to see Simon Frampton last Saturday afternoon, to plead with him to refuse to let Sukie attend any more séances, for her sake and the sake of her unborn child.”
“What did Frampton say? I assume he refused?”
“Mr. Vetch told me that Frampton pretended to show great concern, but he said there was nothing he could do, that he had no control over the spirits or Sukie. He said if he denied Sukie access to Evie May the spirits would simply find some other way to speak to her. Then, and this is the important part, Frampton said he believed that Mr. Vetch was making a great mistake in not meeting with Charlie himself. He said that perhaps if he met with Charlie alone and was willing to answer every question the spirit asked of him, maybe Charlie could be convinced to help his mother come to terms with his death and welcome the new child.”
Annie repeated the phrase “answer every question the spirit asked of him” and said, “What did Mr. Vetch think Simon meant by that? What do you think he meant?”
“I asked my brother-in-law that same question. He professed to have no idea, but I couldn’t shake the feeling he wasn’t being honest with me, or maybe himself,” Miss Pinehurst replied. “I have already told you of my concerns regarding the financial burden Sukie has put on him by her reckless expenditure of money. I am also worried that if anyone learned of his wife’s involvement with the Framptons it might damage his reputation at his place of employment, the San Francisco Gold Bank and Trust.”
Annie nodded and said, “I’ve always thought it couldn’t be a coincidence that one of the owners of that bank, Mr. Ruckner, also attends the Frampton séances. I thought at first that maybe Sukie had been involved with getting him there. But now I wonder if the connection isn’t more sinister. What if Simon Frampton hopes to get Mr. Vetch to reveal privileged information about the Bank, or Mr. Ruckner?”
Miss Pinehurst leaned forward, her face grim. “My brother-in-law told me he flatly refused Frampton’s suggestion to visit Charlie, that he threatened him with the police if he didn’t stop his pernicious influence over Sukie. But I saw in his eyes the real truth. My brother-in-law is a good man, an honorable man. But he is weak, and his greatest weakness is Sukie. I fear something terrible is going to happen if these evil persons aren’t stopped.”
Annie and Miss Pinehurst talked a little longer about what Simon Frampton’s motives might be and decided that it was imperative for Annie to meet with Sukie’s husband as soon as possible. Then Mr. LeFrey, the proprietor of Montaigne’s, entered the room and graciously inquired after Annie’s small meal. He encouraged her to come to Montaigne’s again when she could enjoy the delicacies of the full menu, saying that any friend of Miss Pinehurst would be an honored guest. Miss Pinehurst gave LeFrey the first genuine smile Annie had ever witnessed from her, then said it was time for her to return to her responsibilities. Annie, looking at the watch pinned at her waist, realized that she needed to hurry if she didn’t want to be late for Madam Sibyl’s six o’clock client.
When she got ready to leave the restaurant, she discovered to her dismay that it was raining quite hard. Miss Pinehurst pressed her own umbrella on Annie, saying that Mr. LeFrey always called a cab to take her home if the weather was inclement. Fortunately, one the frequent horse cars that plied Market had just stopped at Kearney when Annie left the restaurant. Even though it was so crowded that she was forced to stand on the open platform at the back of the car, there was a roof over her head, and the crowd of people around her blocked most of the wind and rain.
Remembering how everyone at Montaigne’s Steak House had been so kind and thoughtful with Miss Pinehurst, Annie realized that until today she had felt sorry for this woman, whose life seemed narrow and confined. Yet, despite the tragedy of her nephew’s death, she did have family. And she had a family of sorts at Montaigne, where she had worked for over ten years, where people treated her with respect and cared enough to order a cab to take her home. Thinking fondly about the people she had gathered around her at the boarding house, Annie recognized for the first time the similarities between her life and Miss Pinehurst’s.
But would I be content ten years in the future to say, as Miss Pinehurst has said, that I was reconciled to having no husband, no child? This thought led to thoughts of Nate. Then she noticed the horse car was slowing to let people off at Fourth and Market. Annie began to squeeze through the plat
form to the steps leading down to the street. Just as she got to the top of the steps, several men in front of her hopped down, opening the way for her. People pressed up behind her, no doubt trying to get off before the car began to move forward. She hurried to open the umbrella, which had an unfamiliar kind of catch. She had just managed to get it open when she found herself leaping into space, the umbrella torn from her hands by a ferocious gust of wind. Hands miraculously now free, she was able to break her fall enough so she only went down on one knee.
“Lady, are you hurt?” said an older man who rushed up to her from the sidewalk and leaned down to help her to her feet. “I never seen anything like it, that brolly almost had you airborne!”
“Thank you so much, sir, I’m fine,” Annie said, embarrassed by the crowd that had gathered, despite the continued downpour. “I’ll just be on my way; we all need to get out of this rain.”
“Oh, there’s a good lad, he’s caught your umbrella for you. That will help keep some of the wet off, if it don’t decide to go flying again,” the man said with a chuckle as he raised it over her head.
Annie wiped a sopping strand of hair out of her eyes, opened her purse and found a penny to give the young boy, who grinned and ran off. Walking over to the sidewalk, she thanked her protector, who tipped his hat and also went on his way. As she turned to walk up Stockton, she realized that, with each step, pain blossomed in her left knee. She wondered if the wetness running down her leg was blood or just her soaked skirt. Her left wrist was also hurting, and when she turned her hand over, she saw a trickle of blood seeping from under the top of her glove. She took a deep breath. It was just a fall. There’s nothing wrong that a little arnica won’t cure. Then a wave of dizziness rolled over her as she remembered the distinct feel of a hand shoving her in the small of her back, right before she and the umbrella took flight.
Chapter Twenty-one
Uneasy Spirits: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery Page 15