Murder on Waverly Place

by Victoria Thompson

  “I know you’re right,” Sarah admitted.

  “Of course I am,” he said without a trace of humility.

  She glared at him. “I just hate the thought of her sitting there in the dark, helpless.”

  Malloy considered this a moment. “I think I have something to make her a little less helpless.”

  “Not a weapon,” Sarah protested.

  “No, something better.”

  Before she could question him, Maeve and Serafina returned to the kitchen. Maeve handed an envelope to Malloy. “This is for the Professor.”

  “Is it going to make him run?” Malloy asked with a doubtful glance at the envelope.

  “No, it should make him want to stay,” Serafina said. “I tell him I am going to keep doing the séances because I have no other way to support myself, and he is the only one who can help me.”

  Malloy nodded his approval and tucked the envelope into his coat pocket.

  Maeve handed Mrs. Decker a second envelope. “This is for Mrs. Burke.”

  “I hope you haven’t frightened her too much,” Mrs. Decker said, accepting the envelope cautiously, with just two fingers, as if afraid it might explode.

  “No, only a little,” Serafina assured her. “Just enough so she will come. I also told her I would not charge her for the sitting.”

  “She’d be a fool to miss that opportunity,” Mrs. Decker said.

  “Serafina, we were just discussing what Mr. Malloy and I should do during the séance,” Sarah said.

  “You must do nothing. The others should also not know you are there. They will suspect something.”

  “We thought we could go into that room behind the cabinet and listen to what’s happening.”

  “No, no,” Serafina said. “If you open the false door during the séance, they might hear you. There is a better place to listen, in the kitchen. I will show you tomorrow.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Maeve asked.

  “Just be sure you are holding Mrs. Burke and Mr. Sharpe by the hand and do not let go. Mrs. Decker and I will be holding their other hands. Mrs. Decker and I will also be holding Mr. Cunningham’s hands.”

  “You also must make sure no one lets go or keeps one hand free,” Sarah warned them.

  “And what are you going to do?” Malloy asked Serafina.

  She turned her amazing eyes on him for a long moment, then let her gaze drift until she’d touched everyone at the table with her silent power. “I am going to contact the spirits and ask them who the killer is.”

  They could not get her to say more or to make any more plans. Serafina insisted she would not know what to do until she heard what the spirits told her.

  Frustrated and weary with all of it, Malloy finally took his leave. “I need to go see the Professor before it gets too late. Maeve, will you see me to the door?” he asked.

  The girl eagerly complied, leaving Sarah feeling unreasonably slighted. Maeve returned a few minutes later, looking oddly pleased, and Sarah wondered what he had needed to see her alone about. She would have to wait until much later to ask her.

  THE PROFESSOR MUST HAVE BEEN WATCHING FOR VISITORS because he opened the door almost the instant Frank knocked.

  “Have you found him?” the Professor demanded.

  “Aren’t you even going to invite me in?”

  The Professor stood back and waved him inside with ill-concealed impatience. “Have you found him?” he asked again as soon as he’d closed the front door behind them.

  “Are you talking about DiLoreto?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Not yet,” Frank lied. He saw no reason to go against Serafina’s wishes.

  “Then why are you here?”

  With a sigh of annoyance, Frank pulled Serafina’s note out of his pocket and handed it to him.

  “What’s this?” he demanded, accepting it with suspicion.

  “Read it and find out.” Frank turned away and wandered into the parlor in spite of not having been invited to make himself welcome. This time he paid closer attention to the furnishings, and this time he could see that everything looked slightly shabby and thrown together, as if the items had come from an auction of mixed lots, bought cheap and with an eye to filling space rather than comfort or style.

  “She’s coming back tomorrow?” the Professor asked from the parlor doorway. He still held the note in his hand.

  “That’s right. She’s invited everybody who was at the séance where Mrs. Gittings was killed to come back for another one. She wants you to have everything ready.”

  “Does this mean she’s free?”

  “She’s always been free.”

  “I thought you were . . . holding her,” he said with a frown.

  “I told you before, she wasn’t arrested. She was just staying with Mrs. Brandt for a while, but now she wants to start doing the séances again. She probably needs the money.”

  “The boy didn’t contact her then,” he said with some satisfaction. “I didn’t think he would. Once he got the money, he didn’t need her anymore. He didn’t need any of us anymore.”

  “But you still need Serafina, don’t you?” Frank asked.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, suddenly wary.

  “I mean the boy stole all the money you had. Without Serafina, how else can you make a living?”

  “I would manage,” the Professor said, drawing himself up to his full height and gathering his dignity around him.

  “Like you managed before you found her?”

  Now he looked insulted. “What are you insinuating?”

  “Nothing at all. I was just wondering how you made your living before you met up with Mrs. Gittings and Serafina.”

  “I am a professor of philosophy,” he lied. He’d told Frank before that it was a courtesy title. “I have taught at some of the great institutions of learning in our country.”

  “Name one,” Frank challenged.

  “Harvard,” he replied without hesitation, knowing that Boston was far away and such things could not be quickly or easily verified.

  “Why aren’t you teaching now?”

  The man’s lips thinned, but he didn’t lose his composure. “I am retired.”

  “You retired from being a professor so you could answer the door and collect money from people going to a séance?” Frank let a faint note of contempt color his words.

  “Madame Serafina is doing important work. You couldn’t possibly understand, but I felt compelled to assist her in any way I could.”

  “Does that mean you gave up your plan to bankroll a Green Goods Game?”

  Surprise flickered across his face, but he quickly concealed it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Malloy, but I’ve never enjoyed games of chance, if that’s what this Green Game is.”

  “That’s funny,” Frank said, not at all amused. “I thought you looked like the kind of man who liked taking a risk every now and then.”

  “Not at all. Now I must ask you to leave. I have a lot to do before tomorrow. When will Madame Serafina arrive?”

  “She told everybody to come at ten,” Frank said. “She’ll probably be here before that.”

  “I’m sure she will. You may assure her that everything will be in readiness.” He moved to the front door and opened it, standing expectantly while Frank made his way more slowly, pretending to take an interest in the artwork hanging in the hallway.

  “I’ll do that,” Frank said.

  MUCH LATER, AFTER MRS. DECKER HAD GONE OFF TO deliver Serafina’s note to Mrs. Burke and supper was over and Mrs. Ellsworth had paid a visit so she could find out what had been going on all day with Sarah’s steady stream of visitors, Sarah finally found a moment alone with Maeve. Serafina had gone to bed early, claiming she needed to be rested for the next morning.

  “Catherine is asleep,” Maeve reported when she found Sarah still sitting in the kitchen. “She just couldn’t settle down tonight. I think she’s as excited about the séance tomorrow a
s we are.”

  “I’m not exactly excited,” Sarah confessed.

  “You’re not worried, are you?” the girl asked in surprise, taking a seat at the table across from Sarah.

  “Not worried exactly, but I don’t like the idea of you sitting in for a woman who got murdered.”

  “No one wants to kill me,” Maeve said with compelling logic. “Besides, Mr. Malloy is going to give me something tomorrow that I can use if things get out of hand.”

  “What?”

  Maeve frowned. “I’m not exactly sure. He tried to explain it to me, but it sounded more like one of Serafina’s séance tricks than something the police would use.”

  “Is it a weapon?”

  “No, it’s a light of some kind, but it has a battery, so you don’t need a match to light it.”

  Sarah wasn’t sure how a light could help if something went wrong, but she supposed it wouldn’t hurt. “What do the police use it for?”

  “I think they use it at night. Some fellow invented it, but nobody wanted to buy it, so he gave some to the police. Mr. Malloy said the beat cops who work at night like it.”

  “I guess they would appreciate having a light now and then,” Sarah allowed. She waited a moment, to see if Maeve had anything to add. Then she asked, “What do you think of Serafina?”

  Maeve’s expression turned wary. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not sure what I mean, but Mr. Malloy asked me to find out what you thought of her. Do you think she can really contact the spirits?”

  “I don’t believe in spirits, but I think she does. Or maybe she’s just a very good actor.”

  “So she hasn’t said anything to you to make you think she’s a fake?”

  “Oh, no,” Maeve assured her. “She’s real proud of her powers, and she wants everyone to believe they’re real. But there’s one thing . . .”

  “What?” Sarah prodded when she hesitated.

  “Have you noticed, she doesn’t seem real sad about that Nicola dying. It’s almost like she forgot about it as soon as she got back here.”

  Sarah considered. “I hadn’t thought about it, but you’re right. She was nearly hysterical at the morgue this morning, but I guess that’s understandable. It’s a horrible place. It’s true, she hasn’t seemed to be grieving, but people sometimes behave strangely when someone dies. Maybe she’s still in shock.”

  “Or maybe she didn’t like him all that much,” Maeve said.

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Still, they were lovers. She must have cared about him a little.”

  “Or only a little. I asked her what was going to happen to him now, and she seemed surprised, like she hadn’t even thought about it. When my grandfather died, that’s the first thing I wanted to know, where was he going to be buried.”

  “You’ve never talked about your family before,” Sarah said in surprise. She hadn’t wanted to press her for fear of bringing up unpleasant memories, but now that Maeve herself had opened the subject, Sarah found she was curious to learn as much as she could about this girl who had become her friend.

  Maeve’s gaze shifted away and darted around the room, as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to look Sarah in the eye. “I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

  “Oh, Maeve, nothing about your family could ever make me think less of you. I told you before, you’re part of my family now, and nothing will ever change that.”

  Maeve looked down at where her hands rested on the tabletop. “Even if they were crooks?”

  “Even if you were a crook yourself,” Sarah assured her.

  She looked up in surprise at that. “I can pick pockets,” she confessed suddenly. “But I don’t do that anymore. Not unless I have to, that is.”

  Sarah couldn’t help smiling at the strange confession. “Of course not.”

  Maeve rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, if I needed to help Mr. Malloy or something.”

  “I understand. How long ago did your grandfather die?” Sarah asked to change the subject.

  Maeve’s expression grew wary again. “Almost two years ago.”

  Sarah heard something in her voice, something that begged her to continue, even though good manners forbade her to pry. “How did he die?”

  “He was . . . murdered.”

  “Oh, Maeve,” Sarah cried, reaching out to cover the girl’s hands with her own. “I’m so sorry!”

  But Maeve just stared back at her, dry-eyed. “Remember when you were telling us about the Green Goods Game?”

  “Yes,” she said cautiously.

  “That was his game. He played the Old Gentleman.”

  Sarah didn’t know what to say to that.

  “Mrs. Gittings was right about it, too. It can be dangerous,” Maeve continued. “And not just when a mark gets suspicious.”

  “A mark?”

  “A sucker, the ones who come to buy the green goods. Sometimes the operators argue among themselves. That’s what happened. One of them thought Grandpap was cheating him. He wasn’t, Mrs. Brandt. I swear he wasn’t!”

  “Of course he wasn’t,” Sarah said. “I’m so sorry you lost him. Was he your only family?”

  “He was all I had left. My father . . . I never knew him at all. He ran off before I was born, and my mother died when I was twelve. Grandpap, he always took care of both of us.”

  “I’m sure he did. Was that when you came to the Mission, after he died?” Sarah had first met Maeve when she was living at the Prodigal Son Mission, a refuge for young girls with no place to go.

  “Yes, and I was so grateful. Grandpap had some money put away, but it wouldn’t have lasted forever, and a girl alone . . . Well, people will do terrible things if you don’t have somebody to look out for you.”

  Sarah nodded, understanding only too well the terrible things that could have happened to her. “You did the right thing, going to the Mission, even though that wasn’t such a safe place after all.”

  “It was always safe for me,” she reminded Sarah. “And I met you there, and Catherine.”

  “I’m very glad you did. And I’m also glad you trusted me enough to tell me about your family.”

  “You really don’t mind?” Maeve asked, still uncertain.

  “Not at all. I only care about the person you are today, and you are a good person, Maeve.”

  “I am, aren’t I?” she asked in surprise.

  “Yes, you are. And I want you to be very careful tomorrow. Catherine needs you and I need you.”

  Maeve’s eyes misted a bit. “Don’t worry about me. Nothing’s going to happen. And maybe I’ll get to talk to Grandpap,” she added with a grin.

  Sarah grinned back. “I’m sure if you mention it to Serafina, she’ll manage to contact him.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to make it easy for her. She’s already been asking me about my family and if there’s someone I want to ask a question.”

  “What did you tell her?” Sarah asked in surprise.

  “Nothing true,” Maeve replied with another grin. “She’ll just have to find out from the spirits.”

  15

  THE NEXT MORNING, AS SOON AS BREAKFAST WAS OVER, Mrs. Ellsworth came to take Catherine. The two of them were going to the market and then were going to bake something very special at Mrs. Ellsworth’s house while everyone else attended the séance on Waverly Place.

  Mrs. Decker’s carriage arrived soon after Mrs. Ellsworth and Catherine had left, and Sarah followed Maeve and Serafina out and climbed in behind them. Serafina was once again dressed in her flowing black gown, but her expression was more determined than Sarah had ever seen it.

  “Maeve,” Mrs. Decker said when they were settling themselves. “You look lovely.”

  Maeve blushed prettily at the compliment. Sarah had searched her closet to make sure Maeve’s outfit marked her as someone Mrs. Felix Decker would know. They had decided she would be Mrs. Decker’s niece, and she looked every bit the part in a suit Sarah hadn’t worn in a while and
a hat her mother had given her but which Sarah had judged too fancy for her life as a midwife. Maeve touched the hat self-consciously and Mrs. Decker nodded her approval.

  Serafina distracted them from their approval of Maeve’s clothes. “What did Mrs. Burke say when she read my note?”

  Mrs. Decker smiled. “She got very flustered and kept saying she couldn’t, she just couldn’t, but then I mentioned that you said you wouldn’t charge her anything, and she finally decided she would try.”

  “Good. I have been thinking what we should do,” she told them as the carriage lurched away from the curb. “Mrs. Brandt, I think you should not come inside with us. I do not want everyone else to know you are there.”

  “I’m not going to wait in the carriage until the séance is over,” Sarah declared.

  “Oh, no, that is not what you will do,” Serafina assured her. “I will unlock the back door, and you will come inside that way when we are all in the séance room.”

  “How will I know when that happens?”

  Serafina thought for a moment. “I will go to the front window and move the curtain just before I take everyone into the room.”

  “I could do that for you,” Mrs. Decker said. “No one would think it peculiar if I looked out to check on my driver.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Serafina said. “That would be better.”

  “What about Mr. Malloy?” Maeve asked. “He’ll probably be there when we arrive.”

  “I will speak with him and ask him to pretend to leave,” Serafina said. “I do not want the killer to be frightened by the police. But Mr. Malloy can return with you, Mrs. Brandt.”

  Sarah nodded her approval. “You said you’d show me where I could listen to what’s happening in the séance,” Sarah reminded her.

  “I won’t be able to show you, but it is easy to find. A picture is hanging on the wall in the kitchen. An ugly picture of a cow. If you lift it down, you will see two small holes stuffed with cotton wool. You can look through them into the séance room, but you will see nothing once the room is dark. They are really for listening. And you must stand in front of them, closely, so no light comes into the séance room once the light is out.”