Emperor Norton's Ghost

by Dianne Day

  I had no sooner waved goodbye to Edna than Frances returned, and nothing would do but we must sit down and she must tell me every detail of the afternoon’s wild goose chase on behalf of Emperor Norton. He had led the two of them on a lengthy trek indeed with his cryptic clues, taking them from downtown into the Western Addition, and finally out into the avenues. But at that point Frances and Patrick had decided to call it quits for the day. The avenues would have to wait for another time.

  After that, it was too late to think of shopping and preparing dinner, so Frances and I went out to a little family-run Italian restaurant in North Beach where I’d been several times before, with Michael. I was able to persuade the owner to seat us at an inconspicuous table—not so much because I cared what anyone would think of two young women dining alone, but because I was concerned about either or both of us being recognized. I wasn’t entirely convinced that the intruder with the knife had given up on us. I wasn’t unduly worried, just cautious, carrying my walking stick with its concealed blade just in case.

  All the way back home after dinner I kept feeling as if I’d forgotten something, yet I didn’t know what it was. Frances chattered on about her plans with Patrick, and I replied by rote, only half listening; my role with her at the moment appeared to be to advise her to wait, wait, wait. Otherwise she would run off with Patrick tomorrow, begin living with him without benefit of matrimony, and so on. I did think she should have her own lawyer for the divorce proceedings, but I kept this opinion to myself, because I knew Frances did not have money of her own to pay a lawyer. And I was not prepared to pay one for her, because I really had begun to mistrust her a bit.

  On arriving back at Divisadero Street, Frances went straight to what she was now calling “my room” though it was, of course, Michael’s, and after cautioning her to lock all the doors and windows and keep them that way, I went straight to mine. I still had that waiting-for-the-other-shoe-to-drop feeling, without any idea what it might mean.

  I was tired, so tired that I washed my face and brushed out my hair and got into my nightgown without even thinking of the long hot bath that was my usual way of unwinding at the end of the day. Before I knew it, I had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  ———

  It was as I imagine coming back from the dead would be: Fighting one’s way back to consciousness; swimming up as it were from the lower depths through water thick and cold as marble; splitting the surface finally, only to find not light and air but perpetual night.

  Had I died? Was this the Abyss of Hell?

  “Ssshhh!” a voice whispered. And in that moment a hand came over my mouth to stop the scream that had begun to climb into my throat.

  He was behind me. In the bed, on my new mattress, the man had tucked himself up right behind me, and I couldn’t see a thing. I could only hear his breathing. And the terrified pounding of my own heart.

  I felt an obscene softness, the moistness of lips grazing the nape of my neck, and I tried again to scream; tried to twist my own lips against his restraining palm so that I could bite the hand that stopped my voice. It was then I heard the chuckle.…

  And recognized it. Or thought I did. Michael chuckled like that, with a hint of irony that could sometimes sound a bit wicked, or evil. Surely this was Michael, and not the intruder returned? I stopped struggling, went quite still, but not yet limp, listening with all my might. Inside my bedroom it was pitch-black; I myself had closed the blinds although the room was on the second floor and there was no way for anyone to see in—at least not well. I had done this because the intruder had seriously spooked me, but now I wished I had the light.

  At last the man behind me in my bed did something, touched me in a special way, by which I knew that, without a doubt, he was Michael. He let go of me then, too, and I turned over and opened my arms to him.

  Instantly I was caught up in a rush of joy and desire, and I put all of that into saying his name: “Michael!”

  He kissed me, very thoroughly, before saying anything at all. Then he said, “Dearest, I know you missed me, but you didn’t have to provide me with such a magnificent gift on my return.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked contentedly, not really expecting an answer or caring if I got one. I was far too happy. I was almost purring.

  “There’s a woman in my bed,” Michael said, “a gorgeous woman—who isn’t you. I’m sure of it. I checked. This is you, Fremont, right … here!”

  I giggled, but not for long, because passion overcame me; and it was a long, long time later that I thought to ask what Michael had meant by saying he’d checked on Frances. He assured me then that she was a sound sleeper, and that he’d done nothing more than look. I believed him, of course.

  ———

  “Fremont,” Michael said as we had our breakfast not in the usual place when we were together, his dining room, but in the office kitchen, “why does the house require watching? And further, if it must be watched, don’t you think it would make more sense to hire someone than to saddle one of our own investigators with such a duty?”

  “Hmm?” I was busy licking strawberry jam off my fingers. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. We did have a break-in a few nights ago. Didn’t you notice the mattress on my bed is new? It’s very comfortable, don’t you think?”

  A huge grin claimed Michael’s face and made him look, momentarily, like a mischievous boy—in spite of his handsome beard. “Any bed with you in it is supremely comfortable, my dear,” he said, “but that has nothing to do with the mattress.” The grin disappeared. “Tell me about this break-in.”

  I gave him the official police version, that it had likely been a burglar who vented his frustration at the lack of things to burgle on my pillows and mattress stuffing. “I was never in any danger,” I assured him; and then I went on to tell about how I’d screamed like a Fury and booted the intruder out the door, which soon had Michael laughing again.

  “All right,” he said when finally the laughter subsided, “but what about poor Wish? He can’t work all day and watch the house all night.”

  “I didn’t know he was watching the house. I assure you, Michael, I never asked him to do such a thing. That’s ridiculous! Do you suppose he’s out there now? Let’s bring him in and talk to him. Where can he have gotten such an idea? It’s crazy!”

  Michael went outside to get Wish … and returned without him. “I suppose,” he said, rubbing the silver streaks at the side of his beard, as he does when he’s deep in thought, “with the dawn his vigil was over.”

  “Well,” I said, looking up from the section of The Chronicle I was reading, “when he comes in today I’ll have a talk with him about his self-appointed vigil. It’s unnecessary, and I don’t particularly appreciate it even though I’m sure he meant well, and I’ll tell him so.”

  In the quiet time we had left, I told Michael about my father’s visit. I told him everything, except Father’s expressed wish to see me married. Perhaps I would also tell him that in time. For the present I submitted with good grace to being teased about my new status as an heiress.

  “You’ll be out on your own,” Michael said. “You won’t need this old man anymore for anything.”

  “I will always need this old man for certain things,” I replied, putting my hand into Michael’s lap beneath the table, “because there are certain things a woman just can’t do for herself.”

  However, they can be done while sitting in a chair, particularly if one’s skirts are wide enough … which was something I had never thought of before. It is always inspirational to learn new things.

  ———

  Wish Stephenson came in with his mother at the usual time. Edna was as bouncy as ever, but her son looked awful. In fact, to me he looked even more awful than the loss of a night’s sleep could possibly account for.

  “Michael is back,” I announced to them both as we assembled around the very same kitchen table that had seen some interesting doings not too long before.
“He had some business at the bank and wanted to get to it first thing, but he’ll be here soon. You’ll finally get to meet him, Edna. Wish, I guess you’ve seen him already?”

  Wish nodded slowly. His eyes were bloodshot, and he moved his head as if it had become a burden to his neck. I soon realized he didn’t intend to comment, the nod was all we were going to get.

  That earnest face looked ten years older than the last time I’d seen him. I shot a quick glance at Edna, who was already looking straight at me, and as our eyes met she raised her eyebrows as if to say, Who knows? and shrugged. Of course she had noticed the difference in him, how could a mother not notice something like that?

  I decided to talk to him about it right then and there, in front of her. Perhaps if he would not open up to me, he would for his own mother; at any rate, I needed to know what was going on. So I asked, I probed, he evaded and denied … until finally I thought to say: “It must be something to do with that special project of yours, though how that can have gotten tied up in your mind with the necessity to watch this house is beyond me.”

  Wish looked at me with a suddenly keener comprehension, as if a bit of fog had lifted from inside his tired brain. “It’s all part of the same picture, don’t you see, Fremont? Life and death. That’s what we deal in after all, that’s our stock in trade.”

  “Aloysius, I declare, sometimes you give me the willies! Lemme out of here. I’m going back to my desk with the nize telephone and talk to somebody sane for a change.”

  “Willies!” I exclaimed, jumping up: “Willie! That’s what I forgot! You must excuse me, please, I’ll be right back.…”

  When I jumped up, Wish stood immediately. “Where are you going? I’ll go with you.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m going upstairs to my apartment, and you’re not invited. Stay here with your mother, help her make some appointments for you. We had a dozen calls yesterday—think of it, Wish, a dozen all in one day! It never rains but it pours.” Even as I said this I was on my way toward the back stairs, as from the kitchen they were so much closer.

  With one long arm, still seated, Wish barred my way. “I think I should stay with you. It might not be safe. The … the intruder might have come back.”

  “In daylight? Inside my house where I haven’t even been alone since Michael’s return? I don’t think so.” Gently I removed Wish’s arm, pushing it away, but he resisted with surprising strength.

  “I should stay with you,” he repeated.

  I gazed down at him, exasperated, yet touched in spite of myself by this doglike devotion. “I will only be upstairs,” I said softly, and because I was feeling kind and we were alone, I bent and lightly kissed the top of his head, adding: “I won’t go anywhere. I’ll be back down presently, and I think you should stay in the office with your mother. What if Michael returns before I’m back down? I haven’t yet told him about your mother—she’ll need you to do the honors, make the introduction.”

  Wish frowned, and for a moment seemed confused in a rather childlike way, but then he touched the top of his head where I’d kissed it and smiled, like his usual self. “You’re right, I should do that. My mother’s so in awe of Michael Kossoff, she would probably faint dead away if one of us weren’t there to back her up when he comes through the door for the first time.”

  I laughed, greatly relieved, said, “Get on with you then,” and ran lightly up the back stairs. I had not felt so lighthearted in weeks. Not only was Michael back, and Wish’s aberration seemed to have been cured with one tiny kiss on the head (maybe he’d been bewitched, like the prince who was a frog, or vice versa?), but also I had a clear and welcome premonition: I was going to solve the case of the murdered mediums, and I was going to do it this very day! I could feel the excitement flowing right along with the blood through my veins and arteries, like a mighty river. I wouldn’t tell Michael, I’d take Wish with me—that would please Wish since he wanted to stay close anyway—and my resolution of this case before the day was ended would be the best welcome-home present I could possibly give my partner, the other half of the J&K Agency. The other half of my heart.

  I knew, oh yes, I knew with a certainty, even before I’d read the rest of those letters, even before I could piece together all the wheres and hows and whys, who Willie was. Willie, the signer of those letters hidden in Abigail Locke’s lingerie case, which had lain folded at the bottom of my leather bag, forgotten … until now.

  ———

  “You gotta admit,” Edna sighed, with her hands clasped over her round middle, “those two will get around you, will get around most anything, after a while.”

  She referred to Patrick and Frances, who had just left together, determined to pick up Emperor Norton’s trail where they had left it off the day before, out in the Richmond District. “We want his blessing,” Frances had explained, her face aglow, “and if together we find what the Emperor has lost, he will give it, I know he will. I can feel it.”

  “Yes,” Patrick had nodded, “it would be unlucky for us to proceed with our arrangements otherwise. We have you to thank for recognizing that, Fremont, and insisting on our doing this.”

  “It was nothing.” I’d shrugged modestly. Indeed, on my part it had only been an urge to get rid of them both so I could search Mrs. Locke’s house that had motivated me. If, however, the mesmerist and the somnambulist wanted to assign to my actions a higher place in the cosmic order of things, who was I to disagree?

  And so off they’d gone, Frances wearing another of the new dresses we’d put on her husband’s account—this one a thin, light wool in a delicious shade of mauve, with a matching waist-length jacket of slightly heavier material—and Patrick long and lean and handsome in spite of his rather threadbare suit. I had a feeling, watching them through the window as they proceeded up the sidewalk, that Patrick would not be threadbare much longer. Perhaps today they would discover a real treasure left by Emperor Norton. There were those, both in the Emperor’s lifetime and since, who thought he had not lost his millions by squandering them on all that rice, but rather that he had cannily hidden the money and then, in his madness, had been unable to recall where it was.

  Wouldn’t it be something if I caught a murderer and Frances and Patrick found a treasure, both on the same day?

  I shook off that thought just as the two star-crossed lovers turned the corner and went out of sight. Then I turned my own attention toward Edna Stephenson and proceeded to give her detailed instructions on how to introduce herself to Michael when he arrived. She was intimidated; she said she couldn’t possibly do it.

  “Nonsense!” I upbraided her. “Of course you can. He won’t bite. And besides, you have to. Wish and I are going to catch a killer, and we aren’t telling you where, because if we do, Michael will get it out of you, and we don’t want him to know. We want this to be a great, wonderful surprise for him.”

  “Well, I like that!” said Edna huffily. “A body’d think she wasn’t appreciated around here. I’ll have you to know I’ve done my share, and kept things confidential, and proved I can be trusted. Aloysius, I don’t like you going anywhere your mama doesn’t know where you are. Fremont, I’m surprised at you.”

  “Mama, you don’t understand. Fremont’s right, she knows what’s best. We don’t want Michael coming after us,” Wish said, with a firmness I’d seldom heard him use to his mother.

  “We’ll be perfectly safe. The killer has no idea we know anything about him, he will be alone and probably unarmed, whereas both Wish and I have our weapons with us. Not to mention that your son is police-trained to handle just exactly this kind of situation. Really, we’ll be fine.” I had my walking stick, and Wish had his Colt revolver—I had made sure of that.

  “That’s right, Mama. Perfectly safe,” Wish said like an echo. He was being entirely agreeable. I had not yet told him any details, he had no idea yet where we were going, but none of that seemed to bother him in the least, as long as we went together.

  “Michael won’
t eat you, he’s not an ogre. Just tell him he’ll have to deal with me if he’s not nice to you, and I said so,” I teased.

  “Humph!” said Edna, with her little nose in the air, but her eyes twinkled. She might protest, whine, and carry on, but she’d do fine.

  I gave her a hug while her son stood by fidgeting, and by ten o’clock in the morning he and I were off on what I was sure would be an extremely profitable errand.

  27

  ———

  A Dreadful Denouement

  I briefed Wish along the way. It was a bright day, not clear but with a high overcast of white cloud cover that gave a pearly sheen to the cityscape; and nearly windless, on the warm side. We could have walked down Van Ness and across to catch the cable car, but I was in a hurry. I had no patience for peripatetics this morning. So on Van Ness we hailed an auto-taxi, and I gave the driver the Larkin Street address of Dr. William Van Zant.

  Wish stared at me whenever he thought I wasn’t looking; otherwise he pretended to gaze out the car window. I couldn’t understand his lack of animation; he seemed most unlike himself, except for the way he watched me. Really, this excessive attentiveness had gone too far. I must not tease Wish anymore, or play with him, or encourage him further. Doglike devotion is a bit much for me. If I wanted that, I should get a dog. From my friends I want only simple friendship.

  When the taxi pulled up in front of those steps I remembered well from my other visits, I reached deep into my leather bag, came out with a couple of bills for the fare, and automatically steeled myself to have the usual argument with Wish about a woman paying her own business expenses.

  This time, though, he did not argue. He simply exited the door on his own side, went around and opened mine, and stood there waiting for me to get out. He continued to stand there as I mounted the first two steps, then turned and looked back at him. Wish was so tall that standing two steps up brought me just slightly above his height.